


Lion's Vengeance

by wolfandwild



Series: Lion of the Alliance [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Action/Adventure, Developing Relationship, F/M, Mages, Major Original Character(s), Male-Female Friendship, World of Warcraft: Warlords of Draenor Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 17:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 60,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfandwild/pseuds/wolfandwild
Summary: After his near-death experience in the wilds of Tanaan Jungle, Varian Wrynn returns to Stormwind, determined to triumph over the Iron Horde. Yet even as the war in Draenor rages on, he is drawn into an unlikely friendship with the young mage who saved his life…





	1. Varian

**Author's Note:**

> This work has previously been published on Fanfiction.net, though I'm currently in the process of cross-posting the entire series to AO3.
> 
> I intend to do some fairly major revisions and expansions to the series in future (particularly to the first two/three volumes), but for now this will have to do!

Varian Wrynn, High King of the Alliance, strode determinedly through the sleeting rain that blanketed the human city of Stormwind. Today was a dark day. Two weeks after his disastrous trip to the wilds of Tanaan Jungle, Varian now had the grim task of executing the man who had betrayed him.

The trial had been deliberately quick and quiet. Varian had no desire to draw attention to the actions of a mad man when the need for unity and morale amongst the Alliance had never been higher. Additionally, no one had any desire to prolong the life of a would-be kingslayer.

In the end, the trial had been little more than a formality. Aleister Croft, the accused, had confessed to the crime, and there were numerous reliable witnesses to his treason. The sentence was pronounced quickly and with little deliberation. Even Croft had refused to speak in his own defense, accepting his fate with little more than a derisive snort. Today, he would be forced to accept the consequences of his actions.

Varian rarely attended executions. In truth, only a few crimes carried the penalty of death under the law of Stormwind and the Alliance, and executions themselves were rare events. Today would be rarer still, in that Varian intended to commute the sentence himself. He was not, by nature, a forgiving man, and he considered treason the greatest sin a man could commit. Rightly or wrongly, Varian always acted with his love of the Alliance, and of his people, foremost in his mind. To him, treason against the Alliance was intolerable and utterly unforgivable. Some may have thought that Varian's interest in this case was a result of his injury by Croft's actions, but the injury and death of many brave and loyal Alliance soldiers rankled him far more than any personal losses he had suffered.

Despite his feelings on the matter, Varian found himself approaching the Stormwind Stockades with dispassion. He was not here to exact revenge, he was here to mete out justice. Today he was Varian the King, not Varian the man, and he would behave accordingly.

As he stepped through the stonework archway of the Stockades followed by a company of his best guards, he was welcomed by the stern-faced Warden Thelwater. Varian shook the water out of his long hair as his eyes adjusted to the flickering torchlight inside the Stockades. Warden Thelwater stood to proud attention, his one good eye focused intently on Varian. The Warden was flanked by a number of Stockade guards, who matched their commander's stiff stance. Genn Greymane was also there, as well as a surprising number of Stormwind nobles and clergy. Evidently, word of the execution had spread quickly.

Varian did a double take as he recognised a face in the crowd that he most certainly hadn't expected to be in attendance. Admittedly, one of the last times he'd seen Auriana Fenwild, she'd been lying on the jungle floor in battle-stained field clothing with a shattered leg. She looked very different in her immaculate Kirin Tor robes, with her hair softly curled and shining. Nevertheless, he could recognise her still by her high, gaunt cheekbones and clever blue eyes. Surprisingly, she inclined her head ever so slightly in acknowledgement as their gaze met. Although they'd parted on relatively good, or at least neutral, terms, he had somewhat expected indifference on her behalf.

He tore his gaze away from her face a second later at a stern cough from the Warden. Varian realised that in his distraction, he'd failed to respond to the Warden's greeting.

"Good to see you again, Thelwater," he said hurriedly. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Indeed," the Warden agreed in his gravelly voice. "I suppose there's no point drawing this out. You're still determined to do this yourself then, my Lord?"

"Croft will meet his fate by the hand of his King," Varian said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As he spoke, he shot a sideways glance at Auriana, and saw the barest hint of surprise flash over her stoic face as she realised Varian himself would be the one to end Aleister Croft's life.

"Very well," Warden Thelwater said with a sigh, and motioned two guards forward. "Fetch the prisoner."

No one spoke a word as they waited for Croft's arrival. The room was thick with tension, and Varian watched as the nobles shifted uneasily. Varian found himself wanting to go over and speak to Auriana, but he knew now was not the time. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his neck, and wondered what she was thinking.

The guards returned minutes later, guiding Croft between them. Prison had obviously been unkind to the man. Even though he'd only been incarcerated for two weeks, he looked skinny and disheveled. That said, his time in the Stockades had clearly failed to dull his air of arrogant superiority. Even now, facing death, he stared back at Varian with cultured disdain, as if it were Varian who had betrayed him.

"Face up or face down, Croft?" Thelwater asked drily.

Evidently, the Warden of Stormwind was not a man to mince words.

''Up," Croft snarled. "I'm no coward."

"Very well. Any last words?"

Croft's eyes narrowed, and his furious stare fell upon Varian.

"What could I possibly say? What's done is done. I'll see you in hell, Wrynn."

Varian sighed. He didn't know what he'd hoped for, perhaps some kind of contrition, but Croft was defiant to the last.

"As you wish," Varian said gravely. "Guards."

Varian unsheathed Shalamayne as the guards forced Croft into the stocks. The great sword made an ominous grating noise as it was freed, but Croft didn't so much as flinch as he stared at the monstrous blade.

If nothing else, he has courage, Varian thought. What a waste.

Varian allowed himself a sidelong glance at Auriana. She stood stock still with dead eyes, like a perfectly carved stone statue. She was not looking at Croft, however, but at Varian. Her expression was unreadable.

Varian forced himself to turn away, and he focused on the grim business at hand. He nodded at Warden Thelwater, indicating his readiness.

"By order of High King Varian Wrynn, Aleister Croft is to be executed by beheading, for the crime of high treason against the Kingdom of Stormwind and the Alliance. The sentence is to be commended upon this day, by the hand of the King," Thelwater said formally.

The Warden turned to Croft. "May the Light have mercy on your soul."

There was no further deliberation. Varian raised Shalamayne high, ready to give the death blow. Croft was secured face up, and stared at Varian with vicious eyes and a fearless smirk. Despite Croft's defiance, Varian didn't hesitate. He dealt a powerful downward blow, and Croft's head tumbled cleanly from his shoulders. As Croft's body slumped limply to the floor, Varian saw Auriana close her eyes and turn away.

The Stockade guards worked quickly to remove the body. Varian gratefully accepted a proffered rag, and wiped Shalamayne clear of Croft's lifeblood before resheathing the blade. He nodded curtly at Warden Thelwater, then turned away from Croft's corpse as it was moved. Varian had no desire to waste even one more second of his time on the traitor.

The formerly silent crowd of noblemen were suddenly animated, discussing the execution with great vigor. Varian saw Auriana move towards the exit, pushing her way through the crowd. He wanted badly to talk to her. He knew she and Croft had been friends, and he knew that it couldn't have been easy to witness his demise. More than anything, he wanted to assure himself that she didn't blame him for the series of events that had lead to Croft's death.

Varian moved swiftly through the crowd, ignoring all attempts to speak to him, but Auriana was both smaller and faster. She slipped through the crowd like a wisp. By the time Varian stepped out of the Stockades and onto the cobbled streets of Stormwind, she was simply gone, vanishing like a ghost into the dull grey afternoon.


	2. Auriana

Auriana had seen the King move to speak to her, but she was in no state of mind to speak to Varian Wrynn on this day. She was able to easily evade him through the chattering crowd inside the Stockades, and the fine layer of grey mist blanketing Stormwind further aided her escape as she slipped outside. It began raining heavily as she made her way back towards Stormwind's mage district, and she was soon soaked from head to toe. She could have ensorcelled the water away from her clothes, of course, but there was something about being soaked and miserable that suited her current mood.

Her boots smacked loudly on the wet cobblestones as she pressed on through the rain. Auriana still had no idea why she had attended the execution. It had troubled her more than she cared to admit, though she couldn't quite identify why. A hundred possible explanations tumbled through her mind as she walked. She'd seen death before, and wasn't fazed by it, but there was something different about the cold finality of an execution compared to the hot bloodshed of a victorious battle. She was no stranger to violence, but Auriana wasn't sure she could ever kill a man cold, not even a traitor like Aleister Croft. She vaguely wondered if she had expected something more than bitter defiance from Croft before he'd died. After all, he had been a friend, and a comrade. She wouldn't have described them as close, but they'd fought and bled and faced death together. Auriana frowned. She thought they had been fighting for love of the Alliance, but evidently Croft had felt differently. She shook her head in disappointment, and her thoughts strayed further. Certainly, she hadn't attended the execution expecting to witness repentance, or to plead with the King to spare the life of the man, but something about Croft's death left her feeling thoroughly unsatisfied.

Auriana also wasn't sure why she'd gone out of her way to avoid Wrynn. The execution was the first time she'd come face to face with him since she had bought Croft to Stormwind to face the King's justice. Though she'd been working in and around Stormwind while her leg healed, she'd carefully orchestrated her work in order to stay out of his way.

Her avoidance of the King was largely based on her own confusing thoughts. Although she'd parted from him on reasonable, even friendly, terms, and her long simmering anger towards him had faded somewhat, he still made her feel thoroughly off balance. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling, borne largely from the fact that she could see now that her anger over the events of Theramore and Orgrimmar had largely been misplaced. She knew she probably owed Wrynn some sort of apology, and by avoiding him, she was able to avoid repenting. Auriana was a stubborn woman by nature, and there were few things rankled her more than having to admit her mistakes to other people.

She ducked under an archway leading from the canals into the mage district. As she did, she nervously looked behind her, and quickly shook her head at her own stupidity. Surely Wrynn was not so determined as to follow her this far, and as the King, he must have had better things to do than to chase a half-drowned mage through the streets of Stormwind.

Auriana turned right as she entered the mage quarter proper, and headed towards her small apartment. Although she ostensibly lived on Draenor now, in Lunarfall Garrison, she had used a modest inheritance from her parents to purchase a permanent home in Stormwind.

As an Alliance field commander, she rarely spent time in the Alliance capital. More often than not, she found accommodation wherever she could. She usually stayed in whatever military camps or inns best suited her needs as she travelled across Azeroth, but it was nice to have a small piece of Stormwind to call her own. It was also particularly pleasant to have a space that she didn't have to share with anyone else. After the fall of Theramore, it was the closest thing she had to a real home.

Her home was a small but well-proportioned residence on the ground floor. There was no lock on the door, but rather a small glowing rune in the place where one would normally have a keyhole. Auriana touched her fingers to the shining purple rune and spoke a quick spell. The rune faded under her fingertips, and the wooden door swung open to reveal the cosy apartment. In essence, her home was only two rooms - a comfortable living area with a small wood fired oven, and a small bedroom with attached amenities. It was very small, and she could have afforded something bigger, but she had found a bigger apartment impractical given how infrequently she resided in Stormwind.

Further reflecting her limited use of the place, it was sparsely furnished. In fact, the only real point of pride Auriana had in her home was her extensive collection of books, which spanned both the living and sleeping areas. She wasn't one for extravagant homewares, but she did love her books, and many were rare copies or first editions.

Auriana lit the oven with a flick of her wrist as she moved into the room. In the small apartment, the oven doubled as an effective fireplace on cold days. She walked further on into the bedroom, and quickly removed her soaking robes. Although the damp had suited her maudlin mood earlier, she was now cold and shivering, and she absolutely hated being cold. As a frost mage, the irony was not lost upon her, and it had been the source of many a playful teasing from Khadgar.

She dug into her small wardrobe and pulled out a set of warm woollen leggings and a thick woollen tunic. She was not a fashionable woman, and her wardrobe mostly consisted of a few formal Kirin Tor robes, some every day robes, and a simple, homespun assortment of leggings, breeches, and tunics. Pride of place belonged to one of her sets of battle robes, which had been painstakingly ensorcelled and reinforced for combat. Her best set was housed at Lunarfall, but she still kept some in Stormwind, just in case she would ever be called on to defend the Alliance at its heart.

Auriana trembled as she stripped down to her undergarments. Her hair was soaking wet, and it always took a long time to dry, so she pulled it loose from its bun to hasten the process. She shivered again as the wet tendrils trailed down her back, and hastily changed into her warm woollens. Finally, she tugged on a pair of soft boots to protect her frozen toes.

Auriana walked back into the living room. She felt her mood lift slightly as she warmed up, but her head was still a disquiet mess of thoughts. The apartment was still and quiet, save for the distant drumming of rain outside. Normally, Auriana found the silence calming, but today it simply seemed lonely. She sighed, and made her way to the small kitchen to prepare an early dinner.

She quickly made herself some warm soup and sliced up a thick slice of bread, and collapsed heavily on her comfortable chaise with her well-worn copy of the Song of Aegwynn. The epic poem was her beloved favourite, and it was the book she always turned to when she'd had a rough day. She supposed that witnessing the execution of a former friend-turned-traitor particularly warranted a comfort reading.

Auriana lost track of time as she read on, while outside the miserable grey of the late afternoon soon faded into the true darkness of a stormy night. Normally, Auriana could think of few ways she would prefer to spend an evening than alone with good food and a good book while it rained outside, but as the night wore on she found that Aegwynn's heroic tale failed to distract her as it usually did. Instead, she felt nothing but emptiness and a lingering bone weariness. She couldn't get the image of Croft's swift execution out of her head, and it stayed with her as she eventually succumbed to a dark and fitful sleep.

Her dreams were wild and troubling, and filled with haunting images of Aleister Croft. In every dream she was running through an endless, tangled thicket, pursued by Croft's shambling, headless corpse. No matter how far or fast she ran, he was always there, barely a few paces behind her. The brambles bit and tore at her exposed skin as she fled, and Croft crooned continuously to her in the unsettling, echoing voice of the undead.

"Come to me, Auri," he'd whisper, "Come join me. This should have been you. You understand, don't you, you understand what I did, you know what it's like. You should be here, down in the dark, it's not so bad. You understand, it could have been you, little Auri, it just as easily could have been you. Join me in the grave, join me, you are welcome here, I promise you, I promise you it only hurts a little, it's nice and warm and dark..."

In the dream, Auriana finally became sick of running and the whispered commentary from Croft that hit a little too close to her heart. Panting for air, she gathered her courage and spun to face her pursuer. She reached out for her powers, and her heart utterly stopped when she realised there was nothing there.

Horrified, she fell to her knees and cried out in fear and pain as Croft's corpse closed in. Without her power, she felt utterly bereft and empty, and could feel hot, silent tears of shock and anguish pour slowly down her face.

The dream always repeated, and it always ended the same way. The last thing she remembered each time was the cold, clammy feeling of Croft's hand on her face as he smothered the life from her, while a set of disembodied, scarred eyes watched on with perfect, cold indifference.


	3. Auriana

Auriana woke groggily the next morning to a loud banging at her door. Her back screamed in protest as she sat upright, her muscles cramping from the awkward position she had slept in. Shaking her head to clear it, she realised she hadn't moved from the chaise last night, and in her restless sleep she had somehow tossed  _the Song of Aegwynn_ across to the other side of the room. Groaning, she dragged herself to her feet and collected the wayward book from the floor and placed it gently on the nearest bookshelf.

The banging on her door continued relentlessly.

"I'm coming!" she hollered irritably, and the banging mercifully stopped.

She hobbled over to the door and grumpily swung it open.

For a second, Auriana was confused, as there appeared to be no one on her stoop, but she realised her error a second later when she looked down to see a small gnome grinning up at her.

"Morning, Auri!" the gnome said, her high pitched voice far more enthusiastic about the morning than Auriana was currently capable of dealing with.

The little gnome beamed and pushed Auriana casually aside as she moved into the apartment without waiting for an invitation.

"Kinzie?" Auriana said, confused. "What are you doing here?"

Kinzie Swiftspanner was one of Auriana's mage colleagues. Although Auriana had met the gnome a few times in Dalaran, they hadn't really gotten to know one another until Auriana had been grounded with her leg injury and assigned to portal duty. Kinzie was newly graduated from Dalaran, and had more enthusiasm than could possibly be crammed into such a small body. Auriana found her boundless energy a little exhausting, but the gnome was very good with portals, and was generally enjoyable to work with. Portal duty was notoriously boring, especially for a senior mage like Auriana. Although she wasn't talkative by nature, Auriana had to admit that having Kinzie to liven up a portal shift was something of a blessing in disguise.

"Uh… we're on duty this morning, remember?" Kinzie said, running a hand through her short, side swept shock of silvery white hair.

She frowned, noticing Auriana's disheveled hair and clothing.

"What happened to you?"

"I… uh… didn't sleep very well," Auriana said. "I would say make yourself at home, but I see you're one step ahead of me. I'll just change clothes, I won't be a minute."

"Don't tell me you went out last night," Kinzie said disbelievingly, as she flopped down happily on Auriana's chaise.

Auriana raised her eyebrows and gave Kinzie a withering look.

"Fair point," Kinzie said, grinning at Auriana's silent rebuke. "That's about as likely as Jaina appointing me Archmage tomorrow."

Kinzie continued to babble happily about her evening as Auriana changed. She swapped her rumpled woolens for a simple but well cut set of navy blue robes, and wound her loose hair into a functional, if messy, knot on the top of her head.

Auriana walked back out into the living area, and put her hands on her hips.

"Alright, do I look presentable?" she asked Kinzie.

The gnome regarded her thoughtfully with her head cocked to one side.

"You'll do," Kinzie said, grinning. "Come on!"

* * *

The two mages arrived at Stormwind Keep just as the castle was beginning to wake up. Although they were working on one of the coveted morning shifts, portal duty was a generally undesirable task. Holding open a portal was a tedious task, magically speaking, and the fact that the portals had to remain open day and night meant that mages on portal duty often worked odd hours. Blessedly, shifts were typically short, however, as it was too taxing on the mages to hold open a portal for more than four or five hours. While mages often completed two shifts in a day, they were always given time in between shifts to recuperate their power.

While portal duty was onerous because of the time and tedium, the task in itself was relatively simple. Holding open an existing portal required little power and concentration on behalf of the mage. As such, portal duty was generally assigned to newly graduated mages. Or in Auriana's case, experienced mages who had suffered injuries. Auriana found it all thoroughly boring, and was itching to get back to her garrison, but she could understand why Khadgar had wanted to keep her out of the field until she was fighting fit.

The portal was currently tended by two male mages that Auriana didn't recognise, looking somewhat weary from their night shift.

"Good morning!" Kinzie called brightly.

"Morning, Kinzie," said the taller of the two mages. "Ready to take over?"

"We most certainly are!" Kinzie said.

Handing over a portal was a relatively simple process, but it did require a high degree of concentration. Auriana and Kinzie positioned themselves carefully next to the two other mages. Auriana reached out with her senses and connected to the power flowing from the mage standing next to her. She felt the point where he had connected to Azeroth's ley lines, and poured her own power into the spell. The portal glowed brighter as it absorbed the excess power. When the other mages were confident that Auriana and Kinzie had successfully tapped into the portal, they slowly withdrew their own power.

Auriana relaxed slightly as the transfer completed. She could feel the portal humming between her fingers, and she knew that the connection to Draenor was strong. Distantly, she could sense the familiar tingle of Kinzie's magic joining with her own. The two mages from the night shift offered their thanks, and then she and Kinzie were alone again.

Given the early hour, there were few people accessing the portal. Kinzie filled the silence with a continuous stream of excited gossip. She covered almost every topic under the sun, from the latest news of Draenor to the goings on of the Stormwind court. Auriana listened with half an ear, occasionally nodding or offering an encouraging grunt. Her lack of responsiveness never seemed to both Kinzie. As far as Auriana knew, the gnome could carry on a near endless conversation with an empty room if she had to. In truth, Auriana couldn't shake the image of last night's dream from her mind. As the day wore on, she found herself listening to Kinzie even less as she ruminated endlessly over the possible meaning of her dream.

Traffic through the portal increased as the day wore on, and the inhabitants of Stormwind and Stormshield went about their daily business. The time passed relatively quickly, Auriana's rambling thoughts punctuated by Kinzie's relentless running commentary. Auriana found she was pleasantly almost half asleep, when Kinzie's voice abruptly trailed off.

Auriana instantly perked up, alert. It took a lot to stop Kinzie mid-thought, and her sudden silence was both unprecedented and concerning. Frowning, Auriana realised that the little gnome's wide green eyes were fixed on a point behind her.

"Auriana?"

Although she'd only heard that deep, commanding voice on a few occasions, Auriana found it was now indelibly affixed in her memory. Thoroughly surprised, she slowly turned to see Varian Wrynn standing before her. He had eschewed his heavy armor in favour of a beautifully wrought set of hunting leathers, and his intense gaze struck her temporarily dumb.

"My Lord?" she choked finally, forcing herself to speak.

So baffled by his presence in the chamber, she stopped concentrating on her work as her mind raced. A second later, she felt the portal slipping from her grasp, until Kinzie shot her a weird look. Embarrassed, she poured significantly more power into the spell, overdid it, and hastily made a second correction. She flushed. The skin on her arms tingled with the excess power as it dissipated throughout the room, and she hoped fervently that Wrynn hadn't noticed.

"Um… King Varian Wrynn, meet Kinzie Swiftspanner," she said quickly, trying to focus attention away from herself.

"A pleasure, Miss Swiftspanner," Varian said politely.

Kinzie fairly beamed at the introduction.

"The pleasure's all mine, Your Majesty," she said, with a surprisingly graceful curtsey.

Auriana frowned. Evidently, Kinzie was much better in the presence of unexpected royalty than she.

"Ahh... Auriana, I was hoping I could have a word," Wrynn said. "Alone," he added pointedly, with a sidelong glance at Kinzie.

Kinzie gazed fearlessly back at him, willfully nonplussed.

Auriana sighed.

"Unless it's some critical matter of secrecy, she'll just extort the conversation out of me later, my Lord."

"That's true," Kinzie agreed. "I will. I'm very persuasive."

Wrynn raised his eyebrows, and Auriana suspected he might have even be amused.

Kinzie had the good grace to look slightly abashed, and she added a belated, "My Lord."

"Besides, I'm somewhat occupied," Auriana said, nodding at the arcane power flowing from her hands into the portal. "Unfortunately, whatever you have to say, you'll have to say it here, Your Majesty. I can't simply walk away from my duty."

Wrynn cleared his throat, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Er… very well. I was about to take my noonday meal, and I was wondering if perhaps… if you'd like to join me."

"Why?" Auriana blurted, before she'd actually thought it through.

Wrynn flushed, and she cringed inwardly.

"Well… last time we spoke, you mentioned you might… not be entirely opposed… to becoming… a friend of mine. Friends… take lunch. Together."

"That is true, Auri," Kinzie piped up.

Auriana shot her a look that would have cowed an Old God, but Kinzie simply smiled at both her and the High King, willfully oblivious.

"Thank you, Kinzie," Auriana said through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I don't think I'll be able to join you today. I am somewhat bound to my duty."

"Isn't Rhelan Whytely replacing us shortly?" Kinzie asked. "It's nearly noon, correct?"

Auriana sighed. Wrynn, apparently getting the point far more than Kinzie, intervened.

"I apologise. I shouldn't have interrupted your work," he said stiffly, as a brief shadow of disappointment flashed across his face.

He recovered swiftly, however, and offered Kinzie a warm smile.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," he said. "Auriana, perhaps another time."

"Thank you for the offer, Your Majesty," she called after him as he walked slowly from the room.

She closed her eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. It wasn't even that she didn't want to go, precisely, she just had no idea what they would have to talk about. The idea of spending time with him alone again made her nervous.

"You really aren't going to go?" Kinzie demanded, breaking Auriana out of her thoughts. Her bright green eyes narrowed.

For someone who was barely three feet tall, the gnome mage was certainly intimidating.

"Kinzie…" Auriana sighed. "I can't."

"Why not? It's not like you have many friends," Kinzie said bluntly.

Auriana raised her eyebrows. Kinzie had many wonderful traits, but evidently tact was not one of them.

"Well, you have me… and Khadgar, of course…" Kinzie said hurriedly, "But you don't really talk to anyone else. You're kind of a loner, Auri."

"You really do keep me humble, don't you, Kinzie," Auriana said dryly, rolling her eyes.

If she were being honest however, she had to admit that the gnome had a point. She wasn't a naturally social creature, and after the destruction of Theramore she'd become even more introverted.

"Besides which, he's the  _King._  Who knows, if you turn him down, you might be stuck here on portal duty indefinitely."

Auriana could think of few things worse. It had only been two weeks since she'd returned from Draenor, and she was already going stir crazy. She was due to spend another week here before returning to Lunarfall, and that day couldn't come quickly enough.

"I don't think he's that vindictive, Kinzie," she said slowly, more to reassure herself. "At least, not over lunch... right?"

"Maybe... I'll give you this, he does seem genuinely interested in developing a friendship." Kinzie regarded Auriana thoughtfully. "He's only asking you to lunch. It's not like he's asking you to join him on some romantic interlude," she continued.

Her eyes narrowed slyly.

"Unless something else happened in that cave that you haven't mentioned…?"

"No," Auriana said flatly.

She had briefly discussed her adventures in Draenor with Kinzie, but she hadn't given any specifics.

"Are you sure?" Kinzie pressed her. "The peril of death making you feel alive, a beautiful Draenor evening, a canopy of shining stars…"

The little gnome spoke in a sing-song voice, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

" _No_."

"A handsome King… much too tall of course, but…"

"If I go after him, will you shut up?" Auriana interrupted, nearly at her wits end.

"Of course," Kinzie beamed, instantly quiet and contrite.

Auriana scowled.

"Oh, look!" Kinzie said innocently. "Rhelan is here to replace us! Off you go then. Rhelan, hurry up!"

A stout worgen woman had entered the room, accompanied by a second mage. She looked extremely confused as Kinzie waved her over to the portal, but knew enough about the little gnome not to question her too much.

Auriana rolled her eyes by way of explanation as she transferred the portal over to Rhelan's capable hands.

"Somewhere to be, Auriana?" the worgen said, in her thick Gilnean accent.

"Apparently," Auriana said. "Thanks for the advice, Kinzie."

"Always welcome, Auriana. Now off with you!"

* * *

Auriana limped out into the corridor. Her leg was healing, but she wouldn't be fully mobile for another couple of weeks yet. She no longer needed crutches, but she still walked a noticeable hitch in her step. Wrynn was striding swiftly down the corridor ahead, much too fast for her to catch up.

"Er... Your Majesty?" she called after him, hoping to slow him down.

The King turned at the sound of her voice. A myriad of emotions flashed across his face, but he finally settled on somewhere between surprise and curiosity.

"Yes?" he said, one eyebrow raised.

"I…" she stumbled, unsure of herself. "Uh… does your offer still stand? It was… pointed out to me... that I am somewhat lacking in friends," she asked, as she approached him slowly. "And that I shouldn't turn down such a generous offer from my King."

Varian looked at her curiously, confused by her change of heart. He considered her words seriously.

"I can empathise," he said finally. "Apparently my only choice for a lunch partner is, in my own words, a woman who is 'not entirely opposed' to me."

Auriana let out an unladylike snort of amusement. Evidently, neither of them were naturally social creatures.

"The offer still stands, however," Wrynn added quickly. "Please, my chambers are this way."

He gestured down the corridor ahead of them. To her complete surprise, he also gallantly offered her his arm for balance.

"You needn't trouble yourself, Your Majesty… I can manage," Auriana declined.

She wasn't one to accept help at the best of times, and she certainly had no desire to appear weak in front of Varian Wrynn. Ignoring the stiffness in her leg, she straightened her back and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

The King still looked skeptical, but he walked off down the corridor without further comment. Auriana hesitated briefly. She still had no idea what she was doing, and felt entirely at sea. Nevertheless, she swallowed nervously and moved off down the corridor after her King.


	4. Varian

Varian lead Auriana through Stormwind Keep to his favourite dining place. It was a small study located high up in one of the Keep towers, looking north-west over Stormwind's lake. He was worried about her having to travel up the stairs with her injured leg, however he knew she would refuse any further offers of assistance. If he'd learned one thing, it was that the young mage was incredibly stubborn, and would avoid taking any action that would make her appear weak.

Her refusal to ask for help meant their climb was slow going, but she made it to the top of the tower without a single complaint. In fact, the entire journey occurred in awkward silence, with neither Varian nor Auriana attempting to make any sort of conversation.

As they reached the top of the tower, Varian pushed the study door open and ushered Auriana inside ahead of him. The room was sparsely furnished, as Varian preferred, with only a small table, two chairs, and small bookshelf containing some of Varian's favourite volumes on the history of human warfare and military tactics. To Varian, this study was his small haven away from the realities of life as King of Stormwind. Of course, Varian took his rule very seriously, but it was a simple pleasure to have his private lunch.

A servant had prepared Varian's typical noonday meal and left it waiting - a loaf of freshly baked bread, some cured meats, and Varian's favourite Stormwind brie and Darnassian bleu, along with a pitcher of Thunderbrew Ale. He always insisted on no servants while taking his lunch, as he used the time alone to relax and gather his thoughts.

"I hope you like cheese," he said to Auriana, breaking the silence. "It's not the most elaborate of dishes, admittedly, but in my opinion there are few meals that are as satisfying as honest fresh bread and a good Stormwind brie."

He motioned for her to take a seat.

"Thank you," she said quietly, gingerly lowering herself into a chair. "The meal looks wonderful, my Lord."

"Do you drink beer?" he asked, as he took his own seat. "The Thunderbrew there is a fine drink, but if you'd prefer something else I could have a servant run something up."

"Beer is fine, my Lord," she said.

"Please, its Varian," he assured her. "This is not a formal event."

He poured them both a flagon of the Thunderbrew ale, and served them each a portion of the bread, cold meats and cheese. Auriana took a swig from her ale that would have put a dwarven drinking champion to shame, and tucked into her bread and cheese with great gusto.

Varian watched her carefully. She was indeed a curious mix. In many ways, she was a rough and ready soldier, quick with a swear word, unconcerned with social convention, and unafraid of getting dirty. In other ways, however, she was surprisingly cultured. Certainly her speech had a formal lilt to it, and she walked with perfect posture and a noblewoman's grace. As he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread, he wondered if it could be the result of her education in Dalaran - though that didn't really explain the rough-and-ready side of her nature.

They both ate quietly for several minutes, until Varian found the silence utterly deafening.

"How is your leg?" he asked finally, trying to prompt her into conversation.

"Improving," she said. "According to the Stormwind physicians, I should be back to full strength inside a week."

"And will you be returning to Draenor?" Varian asked.

"Of course," she said, as if surprised that he would ask. "While we've made significant inroads in Gorgrond, Talador, and the Spires, we've not yet made our presence felt in Nagrand."

"I admit, I didn't realise – you're the commander of Lunarfall Garrison, aren't you? We had met before Tanaan, albeit briefly."

"Yes," she said shortly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, as if she thought he was going to criticise her command.

"After our little adventure in Tanaan, I realised that I'd seen your name before, in the garrison reports," Varian continued quickly. "Commanding a garrison is a great honour for someone so young. It speaks very highly of your skills."

"Most of our senior commanders were killed in Pandaria or Orgrimmar, or in the initial siege of Draenor," Auriana said bluntly, her eyes cold.

Varian blinked. He realised that he had no coherent response, and Auriana certainly wasn't offering any further conversation.

"From what I've read from the garrison reports, Nagrand is the stronghold of the Warsong Clan?" he tried again, changing the topic slightly.

"Correct," she said stiffly. "Our intelligence suggests Garrosh Hellscream is holed up inside his father's hold at Grommashar."

Varian noticed her eyes darken savagely at the mention of Hellscream's name. He knew she had lost both her parents and a close friend when Hellscream had bombed Theramore. Her bloodlust for the ex-warchief was palpable.

"I've no doubt you will bring him to justice," Varian said carefully.

Auriana nodded but said nothing in reply, and the room fell back into a tense silence.

_This was a terrible idea_ , Varian thought.  _She doesn't want to be anywhere near me..._

They persisted wordlessly, the silence in the room only broken by the sound of their meal. Varian felt incredibly uncomfortable, and from the look on her face, Auriana wasn't enjoying their meal any more than he.

"Why me?" she blurted finally, shattering the silence.

"What do you mean?" Varian asked, surprised.

"Of all people to ask to a private meal - why me? I'm not… I'm not anyone. Less than anyone - I'm someone you met for two days in a jungle. I don't mean to offend you, my Lord, but it wasn't the best time I've ever had."

Her brow was furrowed and she looked thoroughly confused. Evidently embarrassed by her outburst, she buried her face in her drink.

Varian considered the question thoughtfully. Initially, he found had no answer. He had no idea why he was drawn to her, only that he felt there was some connection between them. Perhaps it was nothing more than the connection forged between two soldiers saving each other on the battlefield, but his instincts told him differently. As he mused, he realised she was staring at him, and an answer began to crystallise in his mind.

"You're the first person in a good long while who has spoken to Varian the man, not Varian the High King," he said slowly, discovering the thought as he said it.

"By which you mean… I shouted at you," she said, nonplussed.

"Precisely. To be honest, I found it quite… refreshing."

To Varian's utter surprise, she laughed. It was the first time he had heard her genuinely, honestly laugh. In their past interactions, he would have considered himself lucky to elicit a sarcastic snort or a derisive snicker. Her laugh was deep and rich, and made her eyes crinkle at the corners. It instantly brightened her entire face, and Varian resolved right then and there to try to make her laugh more often.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I hope you know I wasn't laughing  _at_  you, Your Majesty. This entire situation is simply… bizarre… and I admit, it's making me incredibly nervous."

"Bizarre?" Varian asked.

"I know we discussed it somewhat on Draenor, but you really have no idea how much of my recent life has been spent hating you," she said seriously. "Then we actually met, and you weren't at all who I expected you to be, and now we're here… dining together, and it's not… awful. Awkward, certainly, and more so by the minute, but… not awful."

She blushed prettily. "I apologise, I'm rambling."

"Not at all," Varian said, amused. "'Not awful' is perhaps the most sincere compliment I've received in some time."

She smiled ruefully. "I suppose I like to consider myself an excellent judge of character, and I'm afraid I rather missed the mark where you are concerned, my Lord."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I hate being wrong."

"As do I," Varian agreed. "Fortunately, as King, people tend not to point out  _my_  errors quite so often."

He frowned. "I suppose that's my point - it's so very difficult to find someone who can see past the crown I bear. Please don't get me wrong, I love Stormwind, I love the Alliance, and it is my honour to serve as king, but its hell on social relationships."

Auriana sat forward, suddenly interested.

"I suppose I'd never considered that," she said honestly. "I honestly can't imagine what that would be like."

"Indeed," he said. "I am fortunate in that I have had the honour of having several true friends… but admittedly they are hard to find. It's nearly impossible to find someone who wants nothing from me. Perhaps that's why you're here - you want absolutely nothing, not even my presence."

"I thought we'd decided I wasn't entirely opposed to you?" she said, arching an eyebrow delicately.

Varian chuckled. "Ah, progress," he declared.

It was then his turn to ask her a question. "On that note, what has changed for you? I couldn't have seen you agreeing to this meal had I asked a month ago."

Auriana considered him very seriously.

"You changed. Or at least, my perception of you did," she said finally. "In my head, you were something so different. Cold, arrogant, and reckless. A fool of a King who cared nothing for the lives of the men beneath him."

"I can be all of those things," he admitted. "I'm not a gentle man, Auriana."

"Are you warning me away?" she asked, eyes serious. "I know that - one doesn't need to be especially perceptive to see that you are a dangerous man… but in Tanaan I saw another side. I saw control, not coldness… confidence, not arrogance… instinct, not recklessness. What else can I say? You saved my life. You could have run, and left me to Crushfist."

She sighed. "Honestly, it would have been a smarter decision. The life of the King of Stormwind is not worth the life of a single mage, nor even a commander. But you stayed, and… I  _am_  grateful."

Varian sat silently. He knew well his reputation as a hard man. It wasn't one he argued with - certainly, he had seen the problems his hard-headedness had cause him in his relationships with Anduin, and Jaina, and many others.

"I'm honoured that you would change your mind," he said eventually.

"Are you teasing me?" she asked, looking skeptical.

"Not at all," he assured her. "I mean that sincerely. And while we are talking…" he sighed, preparing himself for the topic he was about to broach. "I apologise for Orgrimmar. I still believe I made the decision a King had to make, and that the decision was in the best interest of the Alliance, but I'm sorry for what hurt it may have done to you."

"We may still have to agree to disagree on that point," she said carefully, and her eyes were suddenly shiny.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," he said firmly. "Not from you, nor from Jaina, nor anyone else. I saved lives that day, and I stand by it… but I am sorry for your pain."

"I can appreciate that," she said quietly. "A King should be strong in his choices, but that does not make your apology a meaningless platitude. You have surprised me once again… Varian."

He started at her use of his first name. It sounded rich and musical in her lilting accent, and he liked it immensely. He opened his mouth to reply, when he was interrupted by the ringing sound of a Stormwind bell, marking one hour past midday.

_Blast,_  he thought.

"I apologise, I must leave," he said. "I've a meeting with a number of the Stormwind guilds today, and being the King and all, the meeting cannot go ahead without me."

"Of course," she said smoothly, rising to her feet. "Don't let me keep you."

"I'd rather you did," he said softly, before he'd thought through the implications of his words.

Auriana's eyes shot up into her hairline, and her mouth quirked.

"That… isn't what I meant," he said, abashed. "I'm sorry we've had to cut this short - are you able to find your way out?"

"I'll manage, never fear," she said calmly, then added, "I'll admit… I enjoyed our conversation today. Thank you for inviting me."

Her voice was warm, sincere, and she offered him a gentle half-smile.

Varian hesitated as he moved towards the door.

"You know… I take lunch at the same time every day. Would… would you like to join me tomorrow?"

She frowned, studying him carefully as if looking for an ulterior motive.

"Alright," she said slowly. "I've a day off from my duties tomorrow, so I suppose I've nowhere else to be."

"Don't sound so excited," Varian growled drily.

"Sorry," she said, flushing. "If you've not yet noticed, my mouth sometimes gets away from me. I meant to say... that would be... nice."

"Much better," Varian said. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	5. Auriana

The following day, Auriana found herself walking nervously under the portcullis of Stormwind Keep. The midday sun burned high in the sky, bringing a pleasing warmth to the otherwise crisp air. It was still early winter, and snow had not yet come upon Stormwind. Instead, the city had been treated to a lovely stretch of cloudless days and unseasonable warmth.

Auriana paused as she entered the Keep, and took a deep breath. Although her previous conversation with Varian Wrynn had not gone quite as awfully as she had expected, it had still been profoundly awkward. She still had no idea where she stood with the man, despite the fact that he had asked her to accompany him again today. To make matters worse, Wrynn hadn't actually specified a time or location for their lunch meeting. She'd simply assumed they would meet at midday, given the timing of their meal the day before.

More than once, Auriana had wondered if she'd simply imagined the whole thing, and had seriously considered hiding in her house for the rest of the day. However, after much hand wringing, she had eventually decided that she would not cower in fear in her home, and had marched herself determinedly to Stormwind Keep.

_He_ did _invite you,_  she told herself firmly, for what seemed like the hundredth time, as she forced herself to walk forwards into the throne room.

As she approached, she saw Wrynn seated comfortably on his throne, talking animatedly to Genn Greymane. Before she could enter the room, however, she was stopped politely by two royal guards.

Uncertain, Auriana began to explain her presence in the Keep, when the King caught sight of her behind the guards.

"Ah! Auriana!" he called, waving the guards aside and beckoning her forwards.

The nervous feeling in her stomach subsided somewhat as she slowly approached the throne. At the very least, she was still expected.

"Right on time," Wrynn said warmly. "You remember Greymane, of course?"

"Yes, we met when I…" Auriana trailed off and frowned, remembering that the last time she had met the Gilnean King had been when she had bought Aleister Croft for execution. "Er… the last time I was here. Your Majesty."

She offered the Gilnean a sincere curtsey.

"Once again, it's a pleasure. I hear that you're to take Varian off my hands today?" Greymane said, raising a thick grey eyebrow.

"Er… it would seem so, my Lord," Auriana said tentatively.

Wrynn and Greymane exchanged a significant look, though Auriana couldn't have even guessed at its meaning.

"Do you ride?" Wrynn asked suddenly.

"Ride?" she replied, confused.

''Horses," he clarified. "I figured you might prefer a nice hack through Elwynn, instead of dragging your bad leg all around the Keep. Let the horse do the work."

Auriana considered the offer seriously. It was a lovely day outside, and she had to admit a ride sounded pleasant. Luckily, she had opted for boots and pants over long robes or a dress when she had dressed for the day, so it wasn't out of the question.

"Why not?" she said finally.

Wrynn cocked his to the side and studied her carefully.

"You need to work on your enthusiasm, Commander," he chided her gently. "However, I shall take that as a yes."

He rose smoothly from his throne with a confident grace.

"I'll probably be gone for most of the afternoon," he said to Greymane. "I trust you won't let my city fall to pieces in the meantime."

"Rest assured, Varian, Stormwind is in good hands," the Gilnean said.

Greymane's tone was grave, but Auriana caught a slight twinkle to his eyes as he continued.

"Once again,  _I'll_  be the one stuck here working on those trade agreements for the Night Elves while  _you_  cavort around the forest with a beautiful woman."

Auriana flushed at the unexpected compliment.

"My Lord… it's not… it's not like that at all…" she stammered weakly, not wanting Greymane to get the wrong idea.

Greymane offered her a fatherly smile.

"I apologise, my dear, I am merely teasing your King. He'll do anything to get out of actual  _work_ ," Greymane said.

"Nonsense," Wrynn protested. "I'm about to attend a  _very_  important strategic meeting with the Commander of Lunarfall Garrison."

He lightly grasped Auriana's arm and ushered her gently from the throne room, while Greymane let out a sharp bark of laughter from behind them.

* * *

Auriana followed Wrynn through Stormwind Keep and down to the royal stables. She'd never been to this part of the castle before, and was pleased to see that the stables were light, airy and immaculately kept. Wrynn greeted the cheerful stable hands warmly, before striding over to an impressive black brute of a warhorse.

At the sight of the King, the big horse whickered happily and thrust his nose out, not-so-subtly demanding Wrynn's attention.

"This is my chief mount, Indomitable," Wrynn said.

There was a distinct note of pride in his voice as he stroked the stallion's muzzle.

"He's beautiful," Auriana said truthfully.

She'd always loved horses, and Indomitable was one of the most impressive beasts she'd ever seen. She walked up beside the King and gently patted the black's neck. She could feel his well-toned muscles move smoothly beneath her hands, and wondered what it would be like to ride such a superb animal.

"Unfortunately, he's a bit high strung for a quick ride through the forest," Wrynn said regretfully. "I had the hands prepare two of my best hunters instead."

True to Wrynn's words, a sandy-haired stable hand walked up with two handsome geldings. The hunters were smaller and finer than the big warhorse, but were in equally good condition. Both had clever eyes and shining coats, and practically radiated health and good breeding.

Wrynn took the reins of the slightly shorter horse, a strapping liver chestnut.

"This is Wanderer," Wrynn said, as he adjusted the horse's stirrups for his height. "I thought you might like Cranewing over there."

The other hunter was a pretty dapple grey. He was slightly taller than Wanderer at the shoulder, but lacked the liver's heavier muscle.

"Cranewing is one of my fastest, and he's an utter gentleman to ride," Wrynn promised. "I hope you like him."

Auriana smiled as she gently petted the grey.

"He's perfect," she assured the King.

Wrynn swung up into the saddle, and easily took Wanderer in hand.

"Are you able to mount with your leg, or should I have Carvell here bring you a block?" Wrynn asked, gesturing to the nearby stable hand.

"I should be able to manage, my Lord," Auriana insisted, and mounted up in one clean movement.

Her bad leg twinged as she settled herself in the saddle, but she simply refused to flinch. Wrynn studied her carefully, as if looking for any sign of discomfort. There was a long silence between them before he broke his gaze, evidently satisfied that she was fit to ride.

"Shall we?" he asked, turning Wanderer towards the stable door.

Auriana heeled Cranewing to follow. The grey was quick and alert, and responded to the gentlest of commands. Auriana had ridden good horses before, but she had to admit she'd never ridden any as fine as Wrynn's hunter.

As they rode out into the bright sunlight, Auriana saw four Stormwind guards mounted and waiting. At the King's approach, the guards sat up straighter and gathered their reins.

"Um… Your Majesty? Are the guards coming with us?" Auriana asked quietly, concerned.

Her earlier nervousness had returned, pooling uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. She was still coming to terms with being friends with Varian Wrynn, and wasn't sure she needed half the Stormwind guard listening in on their conversations.

"Unfortunately, we can't leave without them," Wrynn growled firmly. "One of the downsides of being King is that I am never truly alone."

He noticed the skepticism on Auriana's face, and hurriedly explained.

"I wouldn't worry, they are highly trained as royal escorts and will stay well back," he said reassuringly. "You'll hardly notice that they're there after a while, I promise."

Auriana hesitated, still skeptical, but she wasn't sure there was much point in arguing with the King. He had already urged Wanderer forwards towards the cobbled streets of Stormwind proper, oblivious to her uncertainty. To add to her nerves, the guards were now looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to follow the King.

Swallowing nervously, Auriana put Cranewing into a lively walk, and followed Wrynn out into the city.


	6. Varian

Varian led Auriana out the main gates of Stormwind and into the lush green of Elwynn Forest. He was in unusually high spirits. It had been some time since he'd gone for a good ride, and he couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day. As their little group made their way towards Goldshire, he stretched out in the saddle and briefly closed his eyes against the warm midday sun. Wanderer pranced happily beneath him, clearly enjoying the outing as much as his master.

He shot a quick look over his shoulder at Auriana. Varian hadn't thought he'd ever get a second conversation with the little mage, let alone an entire afternoon with her. He'd thought a lot about their conversation the previous day, and despite the awkwardness, he found that it was one of the more enjoyable lunches he'd had in a while. The young commander was still a mystery to him, and the more they talked, the more Varian was determined to find what hid under her steely eyed facade.

Varian risked another glance at Auriana, hoping that she was enjoying the outing as much as he. He was surprised to see that she looked very tense. From the way she sat in the saddle, she was clearly an experienced horsewoman, but her back was far too rigid and her knuckles were almost white against the reins. Her jawline was exceedingly tight.

Frowning, Varian slowed Wanderer to match her pace.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently. "You look… nervous."

"I'm sorry," she apologised, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "This is just… a lot to take in. I wasn't expecting a ride, or an armed escort, or… I'm a fairly private person, I'm not sure how I feel about being watched all the time."

"We could turn back, if you liked?" Varian offered, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry, this was too much too soon."

For a second, Auriana seemed to seriously consider his offer to turn back. To Varian's surprise, however, she shook her head firmly, as if trying to convince herself.

"No," she said finally. "It's fine. I'll just need a little time to get used to all of this, is all."

She leaned forwards and gently patted Cranewing's neck.

"Besides, Cranewing is having a lovely time out in the sunshine, and I wouldn't want to disappoint him."

She sat up straight in the saddle, and offered him a small, tight smile. Varian suddenly realised that she was using Cranewing's pleasure was a metaphor for his own, and was willing to tolerate her own discomfort for the sake of his enjoyment. He found himself struck by her generosity. It wasn't something he'd ever expected from her, and it occurred to him that perhaps their lunch the previous day had gone better than he'd thought.

"So… where are we going?" she asked quietly, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Ah… actually, if I'm being completely honest, I did have an ulterior motive today in bringing you out here today," Varian confessed.

Auriana raised her eyebrows, suddenly suspicious. She tightened her grip on the reins, as if preparing to ride off at the slightest hint of trouble. Varian cursed inwardly. He reminded himself that her commitment to their outing was tenuous at best, and he didn't want to do anything to scare her off.

"The watchtower at Three Corners, between Redridge and Elwynn, is due for inspection," he added hurriedly. "I told the captain of the guard that I would conduct the inspection myself. I thought we could ride out towards Stone Cairn Lake, take our lunch, and then inspect the outpost, if you were amenable?"

"I see," she said archly. "So… you were looking for an excuse to get out of the city?"

Varian frowned at how quickly she was able to see through him. He sighed.

"Our little adventure in Tanaan reminded me how much I enjoy being out in the field," he admitted.

"You  _enjoyed_  that?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, not all of it..." Varian amended. "But I'll always prefer a good fight to say… a trade negotiation."

"I'll never understand that," she said, shaking her head. "I mean… fighting is necessary, sometimes, but it isn't  _fun_."

Varian studied her carefully.

"Liar," he said softly.

She raised her eyebrows, and managed to look supremely offended.

"Don't try that with me, Commander," he said sternly. "I've seen you fight."

For a second, she looked almost hurt at his words, but then she shook her head and sighed.

"You're probably right," she admitted. "I guess we're both liars. With respect, Your Majesty."

"Why hide that side of yourself?" Varian asked, interested. "It isn't wrong."

There was a long pause, and Auriana shifted her weight uncomfortably in the saddle.

"It's a long story," she said coolly.

Varian frowned, and sensed that any further questions on the topic would be ill received, and perhaps best left for another day. For a brief second, he thought she was opening up, but with one wrong question her walls snapped firmly back into place. Shaken but not deterred, Varian decided to try a different tack.

"Tell me about yourself," he said. "Where are you from?"

"Where am I from?" she repeated suspiciously, as though he would have some hidden motive for asking the question.

"It isn't an unreasonable question, Auriana," he pointed out, more sternly than he'd intended.

Varian didn't want to frighten her off, but he didn't want to have to dig for even the most innocuous pieces of information. Nor did he want his every comment treated with suspicion. He sighed.

"You mentioned you were from Theramore?" he tried again, more gently.

She stared at him seriously, as if trying very hard to figure something out. Varian stared back, thoroughly confused. He'd seen brief flashes of her genuine personality in their conversations, but she was still not free of her general suspicion and uncertainty.

The silence between them stretched longer. Varian was quite prepared to give up on the question, until eventually she spoke.

"I was born in Lordaeron, actually," she said.

Her eyes were now fixed firmly forwards over Cranewing's ears, but her posture had relaxed slightly. Evidently, she had decided his interest in her background was genuine.

"Really?" Varian said, wanting to keep her talking. "You don't have an accent."

"Well, we left when I was fairly young," she explained. "My parents were among those who followed Jaina Proudmoore across to Kalimdor, before Lordaeron fell."

"What were they like?" Varian asked. "Your parents, I mean."

"Well, my mother was a noblewoman," she started.

Varian nodded, a piece of the puzzle suddenly falling into place. Having a noblewoman for a mother would explain where Auriana had learned the courtly manners and elegance that she occasionally displayed.

"She was the oldest daughter of Duke Andros Saevian," Auriana continued.

"I think I remember him," Varian said, thinking back.

He'd spent a fair amount of time in Lordaeron when he was younger, after the fall of Stormwind in the First War. As a young prince and later King, he had been well acquainted with the court of Lordaeron.

"He was tall man, dark hair, with a rather impressive moustache?" Varian recalled.

To his surprise, Auriana actually chuckled.

"Yes, that's my grandfather. I hated that moustache as a child, I found it terrifying. It always looked like he had a fat leech on his face. I used to run away when he tried to give me a kiss."

She frowned.

"Of course, it didn't help that my grandfather was altogether a terrifying sort of person," she said. "He was a hard man, and he eventually disowned my mother, at least informally."

"What happened?" Varian asked.

His own memories of the Duke were vague, but he had recalled Saevian to be an intimidating sort of man. That said, he'd never imagined him to be the type of man to disown his own child.

"My father happened," Auriana said simply.

"Was your father some sort of… cad?"

"No," she protested firmly. "Though I suppose that depends on your point of view."

She shot a quick look at Varian and gave him a small, sad smile.

"To understand what happened between my grandfather and my mother, you have to understand the type of man he was," she explained. "To my grandfather, the family legacy was  _everything_. Unfortunately, he'd borne all daughters."

"... and daughters can't pass on the family name," Varian surmised, beginning to understand.

"Precisely," Auriana said. "While my mother or her sisters could inherit his duchy, they could never carry his name. Then my grandmother died young, and he realised his dream would never become reality. I don't think he ever got over the disappointment, but he made up for it by zealously pursuing good marriages for his daughters."

She fell silent, and stared down at her hands.

"Your mother had sisters?" Varian prompted.

He wanted to keep her talking, now that she was finally beginning to open up and talk freely.

"Two sisters, yes," Auriana continued. "The three Saevian girls - my mother, Alliana, and my aunts, Amalia and Adelia. Both my aunts married well, but my grandfather would accept nothing less than the perfect match for my mother. She was his favourite, and he didn't really care who knew it."

She looked at Varian slyly.

"Honestly, if you'd been a few years older, I don't doubt that he would have tried to marry her off to you. A King of Stormwind  _might_  have been a good enough match for his darling girl."

Varian scowled.

"Now you're making me feel old," he admonished her. "I'm certainly not old enough to be your  _father_."

Auriana looked suitably abashed, but he caught the slightest hint of a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

"Continue, please, Commander," he said warningly.

"My mother was very beautiful," Auriana said obligingly, shooting him a sidelong glance. "My aunts both had my grandfather's looks, as do I, but my mother took after my grandmother's side of the family. The Saevian look is very distinct - dark hair, dark eyes, ivory skin, high cheekbones. My mother, on the other hand, looked like she could be some sort of ancient sun goddess. She had this thick, gorgeous red hair and pale golden skin, and the most beautiful blue eyes. They looked like sapphires, especially when she smiled or laughed."

"You've got the same eyes," Varian observed, before he'd really thought through his words.

Auriana blushed, and gave him a soft, genuine smile.

"Er… thank you," she said quietly.

She shook her head, as if to clear his unexpected compliment from her thoughts.

"I think that's why my grandfather favoured her so much. She looked exactly like my grandmother when she was young. However, I digress. My point is that my mother got a lot of attention from the eligible aristocracy. She was incredibly beautiful, and she was the daughter of a powerful duke, but in the end she turned each and every offer down."

"Why?"

"You have to understand who  _she_  was, just as much as this story requires an understanding of my grandfather. My mother…"

Auriana trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"Alliana wasn't the smartest woman," she said slowly. "But she was… truly kind. She had a singularly generous heart, and she was determined to marry for love. When she was younger, my grandfather wrote it off as a childish fantasy, but as she grew older, it became apparent she had no intention of marrying one of the lordly bachelors my father foisted upon her. She was not one to protest loudly, or make a fuss, but if she truly wanted something, she was a quiet, intractable force."

Auriana smiled fondly at the memory of her mother. As it always did, her smile softened her otherwise stern features.

"So what happened?" Varian asked.

"She met my father," Auriana said simply. "She must have told me the story a thousand times. They met in Lordaeron, at the Midsummer Ball. My father was a merchant lord from Kul Tiras, but my mother liked to call him her 'pirate king'. He was in Lordaeron to secure a lucrative trade deal, and had decided to attend the ball. I won't give you the long version, but suffice to say…"

"Their eyes met across the room, and each was instantly smitten?" Varian intoned, as if reading from a fanciful romance.

"That's about the sum of it," Auriana said. "In any case, it was love at first sight, or so she used to say. They fell into this whirlwind romance, which angered my grandfather a great deal. My father was well respected, and wealthy, but not noble. He had no land or title to appease my grandfather. My mother, of course, didn't care, and she married him within the year. My grandfather refused to attend the wedding, and never spoke a word to her again, not even when I was born."

Auriana shook her head darkly.

"He spoke to me, occasionally, because I was still his granddaughter, and my parentage was not my own fault. I think it helped that I took after him in looks. He staunchly refused to even  _see_ my mother, though he never disowned her legally. I think he always held hope that she would repudiate my father and return to him. It hurt her greatly to be cut off from her family, but she loved my father more."

"I'm sorry," Varian said sincerely. "It can't have made for a welcoming childhood."

"It's of no matter," Auriana said, surprised by his concern. "I didn't suffer for it. My grandfather was mostly a looming, abstract figure in my life. I was well loved by my parents, and I was largely sheltered from the unrest within my family."

"Did you still remain in Lordaeron?"

"Yes," Auriana said. "My father spent much of his year at sea, and wanted my mother to be safe and comfortable. He was wealthy enough to purchase us a small house within the city, and would come home as often as he was able. We lived in Lordaeron until right before it fell."

"When your parents left to follow Jaina," Varian supplied, as more pieces of Auriana's history fell into place.

She nodded.

"My father was Kul Tiran to his bones, and trusted Proudmoore's daughter like his own. When Jaina began to make preparations to flee west, he accepted her warning unquestioningly. My mother, in turn, trusted my father above all else. It was no question that she'd run with him. They gathered whatever money and assets they could, and left with Jaina."

"What of the rest of your family?" Varian asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

"My mother tried to speak to my grandfather before she left. It cost her a lot to do it, after so many years of being ostracised by him, but she believed that the threat to Lordaeron was real, and couldn't leave without trying. He refused to even see her, and… well, you know what happened to Lordaeron."

Varian grimaced. He knew all too well the fate that had befallen the once proud human city.

"After the fall, my mother was the last of the Saevian line, and she inherited my grandfather's title. I suppose she would have inherited a good deal of money, and property, too, if it weren't all in the hands of the Scourge. In any case, she and my father fled to Theramore, changed their last name, and eschewed any claim to nobility. My father took up a position as a captain in Theramore's guard, and my mother took up jewelcrafting. I suppose it was a strange profession for a nobly born woman, but it suited her. She loved beautiful things, and loved nothing more than the idea of bringing more beautiful things into the world."

Auriana fell into a wistful silence. It was clear that she had been very close to her mother, and had loved the woman dearly.

"What was your father's name?" Varian asked tentatively, breaking the silence.

"Benedict Whitecrest," Auriana said. "But as I said, he changed it as soon as they arrived in Theramore. Together they decided on Fenwild, to put both Lordaeron and my family history behind them. A new name, a new start, and all that."

"So… you're technically a duchess?" Varian said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Given that you're the last surviving member of your mother's line, the title falls to you."

"I suppose," she said, as if thinking about it for the first time. "If I wanted to fight over some light-forsaken, blighted piece of land in Tirisfal, that is. Somehow I don't think Sylvanas would simply respect my claim."

Varian snorted, amused. "Perhaps if you asked nicely."

"Doubtful," Auriana scoffed.

She looked at him seriously.

"I have no wish to claim my mother's legacy," Auriana said firmly, as if daring him to challenge her. "Nor my father's, for that matter. I'm a member of the Kirin Tor, and an Alliance commander, and I am perfectly satisfied with that."

"As well you should be. You're a fine commander," Varian said, having no intention of arguing with her.

She looked at him very carefully, as if looking for any hint of dishonesty or reproach.

Varian was going to say something more, when he realised where they were. So absorbed had Varian been in their conversation, that he'd paid little attention to how long they had been riding. To his surprise, they were now within eye shot of Stone Cairn Lake, where he had intended to stop for lunch.

"Are you ready to eat?" he asked instead.

"Are we here already?" Auriana asked, surprise evident in her voice. "Time flies, as they say."

"Well, it does when the conversation is interesting," Varian said.

She smiled, though she gave him another penetrating look. It was as if she were always looking for deceit, or an ulterior motive. He wondered if she'd ever simply accept a compliment or question from him without suspicion.

"Thank you for telling me your family's story," Varian said sincerely.

"Your welcome," she said softly. "It's been a long time since I've told anyone about my family. I'm not sure why I've kept it so secret. It… it feels good not to be the only person who remembers them."

Varian watched her intently as they rode, lost as she was in her own thoughts. They rode on in silence for a few more minutes and soon arrived at the lake. The water was crystal clear, and a few small frogs croaked happily amongst the reeds along the lake's edge. The view was picturesque, and Varian could hardly have asked for a more perfect place for a late afternoon meal.

He pulled Wanderer to a gentle halt, and dismounted smoothly. Auriana stopped Cranewing behind him, while their guards dismounted a respectful distance away.

Varian offered a hand up to Auriana to help her alight from the horse.

"So," he said. "Shall we lunch?"


	7. Auriana

Auriana accepted Wrynn's hand gratefully. Her bad leg wasn't sore, but it had been a long while since she'd been in the saddle, and her muscles were very tight from the effort of riding. She leant rather heavily on his hand as she dismounted, and felt the strong muscles of his arm tense as they took her weight and bore her to the ground. She leant on him slightly as she stretched out, and let out a long a long sigh as the tension in her leg released.

Wrynn was frowning at her, concerned.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Auriana smiled. The King was apparently a very protective sort of man.

"I'm fine," she said, pushing off his arm to stand under her own power. "Just a fraction stiff."

Wrynn gestured to a patch of verdant grass, inviting her to sit down.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said.

Auriana did as she was asked, gently lowering herself to the grass. As she extended her legs, she wriggled her toes within her boots to work out the last of the kinks. Meanwhile, Wrynn busied himself with digging through Wanderer's saddlebags. The four guards that made up their escort had settled themselves further up the hill, and had already begun to eat their own lunches with great gusto.

Picnic basket in hand, Wrynn finally settled himself down on the grass next to Auriana. As with their lunch the day before, he'd bought an assortment of bread, meats, cheese and fruit. Instead of beer, however, he'd opted for a bottle of expensive Brightsong wine.

Auriana began to eat gratefully. She'd been so nervous about her time with Wrynn today that she'd skipped breakfast, and was now ravenously hungry. As it turned out, she needn't have been so worried. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea of the nearby guards, but she had found discussing her family with Wrynn a surprisingly cathartic experience. He'd been sincere and interested, and she'd enjoyed remembering her mother and father. They had been very much in love, and it warmed her heart every time she thought of them together.

Emboldened by the relative ease of her earlier conversation with Wrynn and the warm memories of her parents, she decided to ask Wrynn about his own personal life.

"Now that you know all about my family," she said hesitantly, "I feel that it's only fair that you tell me about yours."

Wrynn went very still, and turned his head to fix her with a terrible glare.

"I am not discussing Tiffin," he said adamantly, his voice low and intense. "Ever."

Auriana cringed inwardly. It hadn't occurred to her that would have interpreted a discussion of family as a question about his fallen queen, and it certainly wasn't a topic she intended to broach.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she said quickly, "I meant to ask after your son."

"Oh," Wrynn said.

He turned away, and busied himself with a hunk of bread. The single syllable reply shattered Auriana's fledgling confidence, and her growing feelings of comfort retreated as suddenly as they had arisen.

Is this always how our friendship will progress? she wondered. Brief moments of connection that inevitably descend into awkwardness?

"Anduin is… complicated," Wrynn said slowly, interrupting her train of thought.

Auriana looked up at him tentatively, eyes wide. She didn't want to say anything, lest she ask him the wrong question a second time.

"Actually, that's not true," Wrynn said ruefully, running a hand through his hair. "Anduin himself is a simple person, it's our relationship that's complicated."

"Simple?" Auriana asked, confused.

She'd only met the young prince a handful of times, but he had never struck her as unintelligent or dull-minded.

"Oh, I don't mean it in that sense," Wrynn clarified. "Far from it. Anduin is one of the most considered and thoughtful young men I've ever met. I meant… his motivations are simple. He is driven by a singular desire to do good in the world. He is entirely uninterested in power, or prestige, or wealth, or anything else that might drive another man. He just wants to help people."

Wrynn shook his head. Auriana stayed silent, giving him space to talk.

"I've no idea where he gets it, certainly not from me. He's a far better man than I'll ever be. More than that, he'll be a far wiser king."

"Have you ever told him that?" Auriana asked gently.

"No," Wrynn said, and his voice held a note of surprise. "I never have. As I said, our relationship has been complicated. I think it's been getting better, the past few years, but half the time I have no idea what to say to him, and somehow I always manage to get it wrong."

"I'd offer you some insight, but… well, I don't have any children," she said, looking down at her hands.

"Careful, Auriana," Wrynn said warningly, "You're making me feel old again."

She shot Wrynn a sidelong look, and was surprised to see him smiling wryly at her.

"We're very different people, Anduin and I," Wrynn continued. "For years, I thought the best way to protect him was to forge him into a warrior, but I've had to accept that that isn't who Anduin is, or ever will be. If he just had that fighting instinct, I'd know what to do, and say… and I'd know that he'd be safe. But he doesn't, and… honestly, Auriana, it terrifies me."

Wrynn looked out over the softly rippling lake, and let out a long sigh.

"I can't lose him," he said, so quietly that Auriana wasn't sure he'd even spoken.

"Sometimes the best way to protect people is to let them know that they have your unconditional support," she said sagely. "I think it gives people confidence, knowing that no matter where they go or what they do, they've got someone who will love and defend them."

Wrynn looked at her thoughtfully, as if seeing her again for the first time.

"Very wise," he decreed finally. "You might look all young and nubile, but you've got an old soul. Perhaps that's why you can abide spending time with an old king like me."

Auriana raised her eyebrows at his choice of words.

"Nubile?" she asked.

"It's an apt description," Wrynn said. "How old are you anyway? Twenty four? Twenty five?"

"They say it's terribly rude to ask a lady her age," Auriana said archly. "I would've thought that Lothar taught you better than that, my Lord."

"My apologies, m'lady," he said seriously, but there was a wry sparkle to his eyes.

They lapsed into a long silence, broken only by the soft croaking of the small frogs frolicking in the lake. However, Auriana noted that this particular silence had a distinctly different tone. Somehow, the awkwardness that permeated their prior interaction had been replaced with something approaching genuine amity. Smiling softly to herself, Auriana poured another glass of wine.

The rest of the afternoon passed by quickly. After lunch, the little group saddled up once more and rode for the outpost at Three Corners. Wrynn had declined to speak further on the topic of his son, but was more than willing to discuss the military history of Azeroth. It came as no surprise, but he was somewhat of an expert on the topic, and Auriana found his insights fascinating. He'd even had a few comments on her strategy in Gorgrond and Talador that she intended to put into practice when she returned to Draenor.

Wrynn had just finished describing a particularly complex flanking maneuver when the conversation was cut short by their arrival at Three Corners. The soldiers assigned to the small outpost were already waiting at attention as Wrynn's small party rode up. However, while the inspection had been anticipated, Auriana realised that the outpost hadn't been expecting the presence of the king himself. She stifled a grin as the young outpost lieutenant practically fell over himself trying to bow and salute at the same time.

Auriana observed Wrynn closely as he dismounted and began his inspection of the garrison. The longer she watched, the more Auriana was impressed by her king. He was sincere and thorough, and was genuinely interested in experiences of his soldiers. She could see the respect in each of their eyes, and found her own respect for Wrynn growing. Auriana had been a field commander long enough to know that true loyalty was earned, not bought, and could see clearly that these men would follow Wrynn into hell. She knew that such loyalty was not easily won, and how much it spoke to Wrynn's character as both a leader and a man. She frowned thoughtfully, forced once again to revise her opinion of the king.

The inspection didn't take much longer, and soon their little party was back on the road towards Stormwind. As they passed the Tower of Azora, Wrynn suggested that they take advantage of the long, flat road between the tower and Goldshire to let the horses out for a run. Auriana was more than happy to oblige him, and she could feel from the way Cranewing pulled at the reins that he was also willing. Without waiting to be asked, she heeled the horse into a fast gallop.

As Wrynn had promised, the dappled gelding was very fast. He moved like the wind, and Auriana could have sworn that his feet barely touched the ground as he gained speed. She heard Wrynn let out a loud shout from behind, and soon heard the thunder of hooves as Wanderer eagerly leapt after Cranewing. Wrynn's liver hunter gave a good chase, but was unable to keep up with the fleet-footed grey as he stretched into the run.

Auriana and Cranewing reached the outskirts of Goldshire first, reluctantly pulling up just before they collided with a very startled traveling merchant. Wrynn and Wanderer pulled to a halt a few seconds behind her, followed lastly by Wrynn's cadre of guards. Auriana felt the blood rush to her cheeks as her heart beat a rapid staccato in her chest. She shot Wrynn a bright, genuine grin as he rode up beside her, and was gratified to see him return the smile.

She patted Cranewing gratefully on the neck. The horse was breathing hard from his efforts, but he pranced spryly beneath her. She felt he was quite happy to race again, and she would have loved to indulge him.

"You were right," she said as Wrynn approached. "He's very fast."

"He's one of my best," Wrynn agreed, seemingly pleased that she'd enjoyed the ride.

He looked up at the darkening sky.

"Unfortunately, we're running out of light," he observed, "And I really must be getting back to Stormwind."

He turned Wanderer up the road towards the city.

"Of course," Auriana said lightly, though she found herself oddly disappointed that the day was over.

They arrived back at the royal stables just as the sun began to dip behind the horizon. The beautiful blue day had turned into an even more glorious sunset. The sky had faded to a deep purple, streaked with the aurulent rays of the dying sun.

Inside the stables, the wall sconces were already ablaze with flickering fire, bathing the whole building in a soft, golden light. Auriana dismounted with little effort, and handed Cranewing's reins to a waiting stablehand. She gently patted the gelding's flank as he was lead away, hoping that it wouldn't be the last chance she'd get to ride him.

She turned back to Wrynn. He too had dismounted, and was now looking at her expectantly. Auriana stared back, wondering if he were waiting for her to say something.

"So…" he started, and to her great surprise he looked almost shy. "Would you be willing to meet again? Unfortunately, I'm not available for lunch for another few days, but perhaps after?"

Auriana bit her lip.

"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be back in Draenor by then," she said quietly. "I was planning to leave tomorrow morning, actually. My leg is better, or at least functional, and I've been away for far too long, and I need to look to our interests in Nagrand. I only came to escort you in Ashran as a personal favour to Khadgar, I wasn't there in my capacity as garrison commander. If I hadn't…"

"You wouldn't be here now," Wrynn finished for her, turning away.

Auriana frowned. His voice was now cold, almost sullen.

"I have duties, my Lord," she said beseechingly. "I can't just walk away from them as I please."

"I know," Wrynn said shortly. "You're needed elsewhere."

Auriana shook her head, perplexed at his sudden distance. It occurred to her that he thought she was rejecting him, and that he was genuinely disappointed at the thought. To her great surprise, his disappointment mirrored her own. She'd genuinely enjoyed their ride today, despite her earlier reservations. More than that, she'd been sad and silent for so long, that it was a relief to finally connect with another human, even one so unexpected as Varian Wrynn.

The King had turned to walk away, dismissal written in his posture. Auriana swallowed, and for the first time in a long while, she decided to take a risk. She could feel her heart start to pound in her chest, but against all her better judgement, she reached out and grasped his arm.

Wrynn stopped and turned. Surprise was scored on every line of his face, as well as something a good deal more dangerous that she couldn't quite place.

"I should mention, however," she said tentatively, "That in the past two weeks my skills with portals have significantly improved."

Wrynn's face gave nothing away, and he didn't seem to have taken her point. He looked down pointedly, and Auriana realised she was still holding his arm. Flushing, she let him go.

"I apologise, my Lord," she mumbled. "What I meant to say, is that it wouldn't be much for me to travel back to Stormwind at the end of the day. With the time difference between here and Draenor, I probably couldn't attend an evening meal, but we could… perhaps… take a nightcap?"

"Is that so?" Wrynn said coolly.

Auriana looked down at her shoes, flustered. He wasn't making this easy.

"I… I'd very much like to see you again," she blurted finally.

A seemingly endless moment of silence passed between them, before Wrynn's mouth twitched into a long, slow smirk.

"And so we come to the heart of the matter," he said finally, his voice considerably warmer. "Tell me, Auriana, is it always so hard for you to simply ask for what you want?"


	8. Auriana

Bright and early the next morning, Auriana teleported herself directly home to Lunarfall Garrison. Her unexpected convalescence in Stormwind had provided her with the opportunity to refine her portal skills, as Khadgar had suggested. She was a naturally quick study, and after several weeks of nothing but practice, she'd significantly improved her mastery.

She reappeared with a flash of light in the central courtyard, scaring the draenei merchant Hanfa half out of his skin.

"Commander!" he cried, after recovering from his initial shock. "Welcome home!"

Other members of Lunarfall's company took up the cry, and soon the whole garrison was abuzz with the news of her arrival. As she made her way toward the main hall, various members of her garrison either stood to attention or called out:

"Welcome home!"

"Commander's here!"

"Good to see you, Commander!"

Auriana smiled, genuinely touched by the enthusiastic welcome. She knew she wasn't the most accessible of commanders, but she'd tried to lead as well and fairly as she was able. When Khadgar had appointed her commander, she'd seriously questioned his judgement. She had no illusions about her strengths and weaknesses in the field. She knew she was an excellent soldier, but she wasn't naturally a people person. She lacked the inherent charisma of the great Alliance leaders like Jaina Proudmoore and Varian Wrynn, a deficit further enhanced by the general melancholy she'd experienced since the fall of Theramore. However, she'd found that honesty and sincerity went a long way in securing loyalty and respect, even if she wasn't the most personable of commanders. If nothing else, her men knew she genuinely cared for them, and would never risk their lives frivolously.

She strode up the wide stairs into Lunarfall's hall, which housed the garrison war room, as well as her personal chambers. Inside she found her second in command, a one-eyed worgen Lieutenant named Thorn, holding court at the commander's table. Next to her stood Delvar Ironfist, a dwarf death knight who acted as Auriana's self-appointed bodyguard, along with a number of fresh Alliance recruits. Evidently, Thorn had been giving some sort of briefing when Auriana had arrived.

"Lieutenant!" she called warmly as she approached. "How's my garrison?"

Thorn, Ironfist, and the recruits turned and saluted her as one.

"Survivin'," Ironfist said first. "Though better fer havin' you home."

Thorn shot him a dirty look. In many ways, the young worgen woman was insecure, and she reacted very strongly to any perceived threat to her authority. Auriana groaned inwardly, realising that the gruff dwarf would have been pushing Thorn's buttons in Auriana's absence.

"It's good to see you too, Delvar," she said, the slightest hint of reproach in her tone. "Thorn, report please."

"There have been no major developments since you've been away, Commander," Thorn said primly, shooting another glance at Ironfist. "Shadowmoon remains secure, and I'm pleased to say we've made further inroads in Talador and the Spires."

"What of Gorgrond?"

"We've managed to get troops into a few isolated areas, but have not been able to establish any significant bases. We've been able to extract a fair bit of timber from the zone to bolster our garrison stockpile, but as a whole our supply lines are still tenuous."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Auriana said. "I want all the mission and intelligence reports from the last three weeks brought to my private chambers as soon as you're able, as well as any communication I've missed. Recall our lieutenants from our outposts, I want to meet with them tomorrow morning to decide on our plans for taking Gorgrond and moving into Nagrand. I know my unexpected absence has meant we're somewhat behind in our overall strategy here in Draenor, and I intend to rectify that as soon as possible."

"I'll have those reports to you within the hour," Thorn said eagerly.

"Thank you, Thorn," Auriana said.

She turned to leave for her chambers, when one of the new recruits piped up.

"Er… Commander? What happened in Tanaan, if I might be so bold? There are so many crazy rumours flying around… did you really save the life of the King? I heard from my cousin in Stormwind that the King gave you a whole  _castle_  to say th..."

Lieutenant Thorn actually growled, and the young private fell abruptly quiet. He looked at Auriana with wide eyes, realising a touch too late that perhaps he'd crossed a line. She gave him a mildly disapproving look, but in truth she had been expecting the question, and had decided that avoiding it would only serve to encourage the rumour mill.

"Archmage Khadgar asked me to provide an escort for His Majesty on a visit to Stormshield. Unfortunately, we were betrayed from within the Alliance, and the King and I were stranded in Tanaan Jungle. In the process of our escape, my leg was badly broken, but I managed to teleport both of us safely back to Stormshield. I was  _not_  given any particular token of favour from the King, and I was certainly not given a castle. Though perhaps I should have asked for one."

She smiled reassuringly at the private, not wanting to terrify the poor boy overly much.

"I do not intend to dwell on the incident, private," she continued, more firmly. "I suggest you follow the same advice."

"Yes ma'am," the private said, suitably abashed.

Satisfied, Auriana nodded and took her leave.

"My chambers, Thorn. One hour."

* * *

True to her word, Lieutenant Thorn appeared outside Auriana's personal chambers precisely one hour later. Auriana had used her brief time alone to reorient herself within her quarters. As commander, she was afforded spacious, well-appointed chambers. She had a bedroom with en-suite, a private study, and an adjoining chamber for holding audiences.

She'd just changed from the loose dress she'd worn in Stormwind and into the more practical leather uniform she favoured in the field, when Thorn knocked on her chamber door.

"Come in, Lieutenant," she called.

Her face fell well she saw the sheer volume of the reports Thorn held. In fact, there was so many of them that the worgen lieutenant had had to enlist the help of a private just to carry them into the room.

"Er… just on the table, if you would," Auriana said, gesturing to the wide wooden table in the centre of the room.

Thorn and the private carefully placed the files down. Even standing as she was, the stack of papers came up to Auriana's waist. Not that that was saying much, given her short stature, but… still. She sighed.

"Is there anything else I can bring you, Commander?" Thorn said, wordlessly dismissing the private with a wave of her hand.

Auriana looked down at the large stack of reports awaiting her attention, and realised she'd likely be going through them until well into the night.

"Actually, some bread and cheese would be most welcome. It looks like I'll be here for some time."

"I'll send someone up at once, ma'am."

Auriana sat down and quickly rifled through the mission reports. Even from her quick overview, she could see that they were detailed and neatly written.

"You've done excellent work while I've been away, Thorn," she said. "You are to be commended."

"Thank you, Commander," Thorn said, pride warming her voice. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you," Auriana said. "Let me know if you have any difficulty recalling my lieutenants for tomorrow."

"Of course," Thorn said, but she hesitated to leave.

"Did you have something else to say, Lieutenant?" Auriana asked, looking up from her papers.

"Nothing of significance. Only… you look… different…" Thorn said thoughtfully, cocking her head to one side.

Auriana frowned, confused, and absentmindedly touched a hand to her hair.

"Different how?" she asked.

There must have been a note of suspicion in her voice, for Thorn held her hands out in front of her body defensively.

"Different isn't necessarily a bad thing, ma'am" she added quickly. "You just seem… I don't know, I'm not sure what the word is. More self-assured, perhaps?"

Auriana watched the worgen woman closely, keeping her face carefully controlled. This wasn't a discussion she wished to have with her lieutenant, though she suspected Thorn may have been right. She certainly  _felt_  different, though she couldn't have said why.

"That will be all, Lieutenant," she said firmly, but offered Thorn a quick smile to let her know that she wasn't displeased.

"Yes ma'am!" Thorn said, turning smartly on her heel and making a quick exit.

Auriana shook her head in order to clear Thorn's words from her mind. There was a time and a place for self-reflection, but right now she had more important things to do. Paperwork certainly wasn't her favourite part of being garrison commander, but it  _was_  important, especially given how long she'd been away. She stretched out her shoulders, and threw herself into her work.


	9. Auriana

As Auriana had expected, reviewing the mission reports from her absence took nearly the whole night. She'd finally fallen asleep at her desk nearly two hours after midnight. Thorn had indeed done excellent work in her time as interim commander, though her efforts had mainly centred around consolidation of territory, rather than expansion.

Although she'd had little sleep, Auriana felt invigorated when she awoke the next day. Her neck and back were sore from having fallen asleep at her desk, but she felt strangely eager and fresh. She suspected that her near-death experience in Tanaan had brought with it a renewed appreciation for life, something she'd been sorely lacking in the past year. Moreover, she was overjoyed to be back in her garrison. Her weeks of inane portal duty had reminded her of how much she truly enjoyed being out in the thick of it all. As a mage, she wasn't academically or theoretically minded, but she had a real gift for destruction, and she intended to utilise that gift to its fullest against the Alliance's enemies… and her own.

She quickly changed out of the rumpled clothes she had slept in, trading them for an Alliance officer's field uniform. While she usually eschewed wearing formal insignia, she wanted to make a strong impression in her meeting this morning. With any luck, Thorn would have been able to recall all of Auriana's lieutenants in order to discuss their future strategy against the Iron Horde.

Auriana hastily scraped her hair back into a tolerable bun as she hastened downstairs, and was gratified to find Thorn, Ironfist, and her three other lieutenants already assembled in the war room. They all saluted as she approached.

"Thank you for coming," she said warmly. "Please, take a seat. I apologise for my absence, but Khadgar felt it was best that I recover fully before returning to my duties. I suspect that he thought the temptation to join in the fight would be too great if I were here at Lunarfall, and that I'd end up permanently out of commission."

Her lieutenants nodded emphatically, apparently in agreement with Khadgar's assessment of her war-like nature.

"In any case," she continued, "I'm back, and I want to continue to make our presence felt in the region. I intend to take Grommashar before the new year, and to do that, we need to hold as much territory between here and Nagrand as possible. I've read the reports that Lieutenant Thorn here was kind enough to provide, and I think our next goal should be to establish an outpost in Gorgrond. What do you think?"

Jacob Atherton, a worgen rogue who oversaw the administration of Southport, was the first to speak.

"I agree, Commander," he said, his Gilnean accent almost as thick as Lieutenant Thorn's. "With the help of our allies amongst the Arakkoa, we have established excellent supply lines between here and Southport. While I don't think we should withdraw troops from the region, I believe we can consider the Spires secure."

Auriana nodded. She had come to a similar conclusion after reading the reports, and was glad that Atherton supported her assessment. She turned to the human paladin seated to her left.

"Marcus?"

Marcus Wheatley couldn't have been more different than his worgen counterpart. Where Atherton was tall, dark and reed-thin, Wheatley was shorter and stockier, with a head of hair as golden as the Light he wielded.

"The supply routes between Lunarfall, Zangarra, and Fort Wrynn are also secure," he said. "However, the draenei are having some trouble down south, around Auchindoun, and I would suggest that we provide them with reinforcements. The Iron Horde are not our only enemy on this continent, and if the draenei should lose Auchindoun to the Legion, it will seriously threaten the stability of Talador. That said, I agree that we should move on Gorgrond."

"Very well," Auriana said. "Allyna?"

Her final lieutenant was a night elf named Allyna Greenbough. Auriana had served with the purple-skinned druid in Pandaria, and trusted her judgement immensely. She'd given Greenbough the task of scouting Gorgrond, as she felt that the druid and her night elf sentinels were the best choice for navigating the untamed jungles.

"I wish I could say we'd had as much success in Gorgrond," Greenbough said ruefully. "We've managed to hold a few isolated pockets of jungle, but we have had no opportunity to establish a significant base. Gorgrond is rich in resources, and it would bolster our garrison strength considerably to obtain and hold a supply chain between here and there."

"Where do you suppose we might best establish an outpost?" Auriana asked seriously.

The elegant night elf woman pointed at the map that permanently adorned Auriana's war table, identifying a small area about halfway between Fort Wrynn and the forbidding Blackrock Foundry.

"Here. My scouts call it Highpass. It's well concealed, defensible, and will provide us with a good staging ground from which to assault Blackrock Foundry and the Iron Docks, and even Frostfire Ridge, if necessary. It's also positioned near some of the richest jungle in Gorgrond, from which we can extract a great deal of timber."

"Why haven't we been able to take it thus far?" Auriana asked. "Are there Iron Horde about?"

"Only patrols have been sighted in the area, as far as my scouts can tell. Our main problem is the native wildlife and an infestation of botani. The area is practically overrun."

Auriana studied the map carefully as she gathered her thoughts.

"I think we are in agreement that our next task should be to move into Gorgrond," she said slowly. "However, I also agree that we can't risk the draenei losing control of southern Talador. I suggest that we send a company to aid Vindicator Yrel in Auchindoun, while I take a second group north to assault Highpass. Any thoughts?"

She looked around at her lieutenants, and was pleased to see that they were all nodding in support.

"I have a number of men spread throughout Talador who are able to be recalled," Wheatley suggested. "I could have a company assembled and ready to move on Auchindoun in three days."

"One of our companies returned from Karabor three days ago," Thorn added. "I could have at least fifty soldiers ready to move north tomorrow, if necessary."

"Then we're in accord," Auriana said. "I'll lead a raiding party north to Highpass, while Marcus sends aid to Auchindoun. I'd like to move tomorrow, if we can, so I'll need some actionable intelligence from the area. If we can wrest Highpass from the botani quickly and quietly, we should, though I'd prefer not to engage the Iron Horde in the area if we can avoid it."

Greenbough nodded.

"I'll return to our camp north of Bastion's Rise, and send out my scouts immediately. I should be able to send you a detailed scouting report by this evening," she said.

"Good. Provided that there are no Iron Horde around, we'll storm Highpass at dawn. With the help of a number of the other garrison mages, I should be able to open a portal directly into the area."

"Any orders for me, Commander?" Atherton asked.

"Yes. While we're occupied in Talador and Gorgrond, see if you can get some of your spies into Nagrand. I know you've got a number of rogue squads down in Southport, and their stealth abilities will be invaluable," Auriana replied. "I want as much intelligence on Grommashar as we can get - defenses, troop numbers, movements, everything."

She rapped her knuckles on the table, satisfied that everything was falling into place.

"Thank you for your input. You all have your orders, I suggest you return to your outposts as soon as possible. Unless there's anything else someone would like to add...?"

Her lieutenants exchanged looks, but it appeared no-one had anything further to say.

"Excellent," Auriana said, rising to her feet. "You are all dismissed."

* * *

At dawn the following day, Auriana found herself crouched in the dense undergrowth of the Gorgrond wilds. Night elf intelligence had indicated that there were no Iron Horde in the region, and so she had approved the raid on Highpass. About fifty Alliance soldiers were spread out in the jungle behind her, well concealed against the endless green backdrop. Unfortunately, it was raining, and it made waiting for the forward scouts even more tedious than usual. Auriana's hair was soaked flat against her head, and there was an unpleasant trickle of water running beneath her collar and down her back.

She'd sent a number of scouts forward to assess the terrain, and was awaiting their report before closing in on Highpass. The morning had been quiet so far. Her raiding party had only encountered a couple of botani scouts, though she suspected they were concentrated in greater numbers further north. Auriana would've preferred not to harm the strange, plant-like humanoids, but they were both persistent and aggressive, and she knew she'd never hold Highpass without first clearing them out. She listened carefully for any sign of the scout's return, but all she could hear was the soft drum of raindrops on Ironfist's plate and the mournful squawking of axebeaks.

Auriana was fast becoming irritated by the lack of action, when her three forward scouts finally returned, slipping silently through the jungle to her side.

"There are no Iron Horde in the area, Commander," the lead scout whispered. "But there is a significant botani presence around Highpass."

"How many?" Auriana asked.

"Hard to tell," the scout replied. "They blend into the jungle too well. At least thirty, we compared counts."

"So chances are we have them outnumbered," Auriana mused. "Alright, we're going ahead."

She turned to her nearby troops.

"I want two squads moving around to the east and west to flank the botani. Drive as many as you can into the clearing ahead, where the casters and I will tear them apart."

Her subordinates nodded quietly, and her orders were carried quickly and quietly back through the ranks. Auriana could feel her fury quickening as she anticipated the upcoming fight. As per her instructions, she could see soldiers start to move quickly through the jungle to her left and right, as they positioned themselves for the ambush.

Auriana took a deep breath, raised her hand, and signaled the attack.

The jungle suddenly erupted with sound as her men threw themselves on the botani. Auriana herself charged forward, leading a squad of casters out into the open. Allyna Greenbough ran on her left side, summoning bright bursts of solar energy to burn the botani from existence. Delvar Ironfist ran at her right, crackling with death energy as he shadowed her movements.

It quickly became apparent that there were more botani than the scouts had seen. The strange plant-men seemed to pour from the jungle in droves, and soon the air was filled with flying leaves and bursts of magic. Auriana lost track of time as she fought furiously, taking down botani after botani. The entire world narrowed to nothing but her, the enemy, and the magic surging in her veins. She could feel her sense of wild invulnerability rising, and she fought to keep it under control whilst still cutting a swathe through the botani lines.

She'd just felled a particularly large brute, when a second botani took advantage of her divided focus to send a thick vine to wrap around her ankle. She let out a surprised grunt as the tendrils tightened and pulled, and she went sprawling face down in the dirt. She scrambled to get a grip on something as the botani recalled the vine, and she was pulled unceremoniously across the jungle floor. Fortunately, Delvar Ironfist had seen her fall, and slashed at the vine as she slid past him. Her leg freed, Auriana leapt to her feet and sent a powerful ice blast at the offending botani. It staggered back from the force of the blow, and shot another vine attack at her neck. Auriana summoned a thick ice shield, and deflected the vine harmlessly away.

She strode forward determinedly, read to finish the plant-man off, when she heard a horrific snapping sound from behind her, and ducked instinctively. It turned out to be a good move, for a second later an entire  _tree_  flew over her head to crush her botani opponent into the dirt. Her eyes widened.

" _Genesaur!_ " someone screamed.

Auriana whirled to see a terrifying tusked monster tearing through her lines. The beast was at least twelve foot tall at the shoulders, and she would have guessed it weighed about four tonnes. She'd read reports describing the fabled genesaur, but it was another thing entirely to see one in person.

The monster knocked over an unfortunate young private, and swung its massive fist back to pummel him into the dirt. With a wild battle cry, Auriana threw herself forward and summoned a great slick of ice between the genesaur and her soldier. The genesaur's hand slammed into the ice barrier instead of colliding with the private's head. Chunks of ice flew everywhere, and the genesaur roared in frustration. A quick-thinking Lunarfall soldier took advantage of the beast's distraction, and dragged the fallen private away from its flailing limbs.

The genesaur bellowed furiously at the loss of its quarry, and fixed its feral gaze on Auriana. In a moment of terrible realisation, Auriana knew it now perceived  _her_  as the greater threat. The beast howled and charged, sending soldiers scrambling away in all directions, but it only had eyes for Auriana. She prepared to stand her ground, calling another blast of ice to her hands, but a thought better of it a half second later as the genesaur crashed straight  _through_  a fallen tree. While conjuring enough ice to slow the beast's fist was one thing, it was another thing entirely to stop a four tonne monster moving at speed.

She ran.

Auriana flew through the jungle as fast as she was able, leaping over vines and rocks and praying that she didn't trip. The genesaur was so close that she could feel the ground tremor with each footfall, and she could smell the hot stench of its sweetly fetid breath. Realising she could never outrun the thing, she abruptly changed direction and darted into a small clearing. The genesaur tried to follow her, and was betrayed by its own bulk. One of its back feet slid out from underneath it as it tried to corner, and it went tumbling into the dirt. Auriana scrambled up the nearest tree, her arm muscles screaming in protest as she hauled herself up as high as she was able.

The genesaur had regained its feet, bellowing from the indignity of its fall. It slammed its tusks into her tree, so hard that Auriana felt her teeth rattle. Securing herself with one hand, she hurled a barrage of frostbolts down upon the beast's back, which appeared to achieve nothing more than to anger it further. She prepared to throw greater a spell, but found that she couldn't both cast the difficult magic and hold her position in the tree with the genesaur ramming it so.

"Fine," she snarled, drawing her belt knife.

'Knife' was perhaps an understatement, given that the hilt and blade combined were as long as her arm. The wickedly curved blade was wrought of elven steel and ensorcelled with frost magic. It was also incredibly sharp, and Auriana had yet to find anything it couldn't cut. She braced herself against the tree with her spare hand, as the genesaur slammed into the trunk once more. She watched the pattern of its attacks carefully, trying time her jump so that she'd land on the beast's back, rather than in the dirt of the jungle floor. If she underestimated the leap, she'd likely be trampled beneath the beast's mighty feet. It might have been able to shrug off her frostbolts as if they were nothing, but she figured it would have a harder time resisting a knife to the jugular.

All of a sudden, she saw Delvar Ironfist charge out of the jungle, sliding to a stop about ten feet behind the genesaur. His unearthly blue eyes widened as he assessed her position.

"Oi!" he hollered, drawing his runeblade. "Beastie! Why dun you pick on summat a little more meaty?"

The genesaur spun to face the new threat, pawing savagely at the ground as it prepared to charge. Auriana took advantage of the genesaur's temporary distraction to launch herself into the air. She landed heavily on the beast's back, just behind its powerful shoulders. The beast shuddered as she landed, and she had to plunge her knife deeply into a muscle keep herself balanced. The genesaur roared as the knife bit into its flesh, and made a frantic effort to rip her off.

Beneath her, Ironfist slashed at its pounding feet, trying to keep it distracted while Auriana went for its throat. Auriana dragged herself forward, her bones rattling as the genesaur bucked beneath her. She had to use every last drop of her physical strength to stay aboard, clinging desperately to her knife and the beast's alien, leaf-like skin. She crawled forward slowly, until she was able to wrap her legs unsteadily around the genesaur's neck.

Auriana prayed that the genesaur's anatomy was similar to that of beasts on Azeroth. She cast a quick spell upon her blade, and plunged it into the beast's neck. Frost raced down the elven steel, chilling the genesaur's bones as the sharp edge spilled its lifeblood. Auriana held on doggedly as the genesaur thrashed in agony, driving the knife in as deep as she was able.

After what seemed like an eternity, the genesaur finally collapsed, its life expended. Auriana was thrown clear as it fell, coming to rest beneath a stand of sodden jungle palms. She lay flat on her back for a moment, gasping. Her heart pounded with the savage exultation of victory, and for a second she fought to gain control over the furious spirit within her. As she gathered her breath, she heard a great cry go up from the north, where her raiding party had apparently triumphed over the remaining botani.

When her racing heart had finally slowed, Auriana rolled to her feet, and tucked her knife back into her belt. She picked a stray twig out of her hair as she wandered over to Delvar Ironfist, who was idly poking the dead genesaur with his foot.

"Did ye miss this, Commander?" he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

Auriana grinned fiercely, and wiped a drop of sludgy genesaur blood from her brow.

"Delvar," she said ferociously, "You have  _no_  idea."


	10. Auriana

Auriana quickly fell back into her role as garrison commander, though she did so with renewed vigor. The successful raid on Highpass had seen the botani purged from the area, and she had been able to establish a permanent outpost under the watchful eyes of Allyna Greenbough. In the time since, she'd lead raiding parties out nearly every day, venturing into Gorgrond, Talador and the Spires of Arak to capture key tactical objectives and harry the Iron Horde. Auriana's confidence grew with each successful siege, knowing that every orc she slew was another step closer to Grommashar and her revenge on Garrosh Hellscream. She knew she was pushing her men hard, but felt that an unrelenting campaign was the only real solution to the brutal aggression of the Iron Horde.

In quieter moments, she often found her thoughts turning towards Varian Wrynn. She was keenly aware that she'd promised to see him again, the last time they had spoken, but she could somehow never work up the courage to reach out to him. Several times, she'd even sat down and penned him a missive, but every single letter that she wrote inevitably met its demise in the flames of her hearthfire. Everything she wrote seemed woefully presumptuous or inadequate, a belief further confirmed by the fact that he had made no attempt to contact  _her_. She suspected their brief friendship had been nothing more than a passing fancy to the king, and now that she was an entire world away, she'd been swiftly forgotten.

* * *

Late one night, after a brutal skirmish against the Burning Legion in Talador, Auriana had retired to her war room with Thorn, Ironfist, and a number of other senior soldiers. The debriefing had barely begun when there came an unexpected knock on the war room door. As one, her little group looked up to see a messenger dressed in Stormwind livery.

"Yes?"

"I've a message for Commander Fenwild," the courier said smartly. "For her immediate attention."

He held out a small parchment envelope with a red wax seal.

"That's a missive from the King," Ironfist said, eyes wide. "Look, ye can see the royal seal."

Auriana rose slowly. She was still clad in her battle robes, and they were singed and bloody after the day's fight. She accepted the note from the messenger with a quick smile of thanks, trying not to let her curiosity show. Ironfist was right, the message had appeared to come from the King himself. She slid her finger under the seal, broke it, and withdrew a handwritten note from the envelope, on which was written a single line of text:

_You promised me a nightcap, Commander._

There was no signature, though clearly the note could have only been written by one man. It was direct, clear-cut, and darkly facetious, just like Wrynn himself. She shook her head, and then realised that the war room had gone eerily silent around her. All conversation had ceased, and she could feel the eyes of all her assembled subordinates on her back. She shot them a serious look over her shoulder.

"You all need to be  _far_ less interested in this message," she told the group sternly, folding up the note and tucking it into a concealed pocket within her robes.

They at least had the good manners to look guilty, though none of them looked any less curious.

"Would you like me to carry back a reply, Commander?" the courier asked.

"No, thank you," Auriana said. "You can return to Stormwind. I'll deal with this message myself."

The courier looked somewhat nervous to be returning without a reply for the King, though obviously he had no idea what was written in the note. Nevertheless, he took his leave with a crisp salute.

Auriana returned to the war table, and resumed her seat.

"What did it say?" Thorn asked curiously. "Er… Commander."

"Nothing that concerns any of you," Auriana said sternly. "The King was simply inquiring after our progress in Gorgrond."

"He couldn't have sent that in the morning? Why would he ask for an update so late?" Thorn pressed.

"Thorn,  _stop asking_. That's an order. Do I make myself understood?" Auriana said, her tone allowing no room for argument.

She resented having to use her authority like a sledgehammer, but Thorn could be like a dog with a bone when her curiosity was aroused.

"Yes, ma'am!" Thorn said smartly, though Auriana could see a hint of irritation simmering behind her eyes.

"Good," she said firmly. "Let's get back to work."

* * *

An hour later, the war council disbanded. Auriana retired to her private chambers, and pretended not to notice the curious look Lieutenant Thorn gave her as she swept from the room. Once alone, she retrieved the note from her pocket and read it a second, third, and fourth time. She paced the room, tapping the note idly against her hand. In truth, part of her was somewhat irked at the tone of the message. She wasn't some servant to be summoned in the middle of the night at the snap of Wrynn's fingers, as if she had nothing better to do. She also didn't like that he'd used official channels to contact her. It was, of course, not his fault that the messenger had delivered the message so publicly, but she didn't need the curiosity of her subordinates roused. Her friendship with Wrynn was still so new and unexpected, and she wasn't quite ready for it to be popular knowledge throughout the garrison. For a brief second, she seriously considered refusing the summons on principle.

However… there was another part of her, a greater part, which was surprisingly pleased and excited by the invitation. It had been a long time since she'd felt a real connection with another human being. Of course, she considered people like Khadgar and Kinzie Swiftspanner friends, but their relationships had always been limited by her own emotional unavailability. Wrynn, on the other hand, was somehow different. Despite her initial impression of the man, Auriana now felt something of a strange kinship with the King of Stormwind. He'd known loss, as had she, and she knew they both struggled with the darker sides of their natures.

Auriana bit her lip, considering. She knew that if she didn't go, it would probably mean the end of their fledgling friendship. Wrynn didn't seem like the type of man who gave second chances, and she doubted he'd spend his time chasing after a wayward mage just to make a new friend. If she went, however, she ran the  _far_ greater risk of strengthening their burgeoning relationship, a thought that both excited and terrified her.

She sighed, and against her better judgement, teleported back to Stormwind.


	11. Varian

Varian had returned to his chambers about two hours before midnight. He'd taken dinner with Anduin earlier in the evening, and had hoped Auriana would join him soon after. Unfortunately, it seemed that she had either failed to receive his message, or worse, had chosen to ignore it. He had tried not to assume the worst of her absence, but had ended up sulking in his rooms instead, certain that she'd refused his summons. He supposed her reticence was to have been expected, given the tenuous foundation of their friendship and the fact that he hadn't heard from her for nearly two weeks, but he had hoped...

He had just decided to wash away the sting of her apparent rejection with a stiff drink, when there came a sharp knock at his door. Curious, Varian opened it to reveal his chamberlain. Winston Falster was a tall, refined man with closely cropped grey hair and a well-kept goatee, who had served Varian faithfully for over fifteen years.

"What is it?" he asked roughly, in no mood to be disturbed.

"Sorry to interrupt, my Lord, but there's a Commander Fenwild here to see you. She says she's  _expected_ ," Falster said calmly, though he appeared skeptical that  _anyone_ would have an appropriate reason to visit the King at this late hour.

Varian brightened with sudden satisfaction, though he was acutely surprised that Auriana had heeded his summons.

"She is," he confirmed, nodding, and the chamberlain relaxed slightly. "Send her in, and see that we aren't disturbed."

Falster gave him a careful look, but he was far too good a servant to ask any questions, regardless of how curious he may have been. He backed out of the room with a respectful nod, and a second later, Auriana herself crossed the threshold into Varian's receiving room.

His eyes widened in surprise at her appearance. She was in full battle armor, thought without a helm, and from the fresh bloodstains on her robe he suspected she'd been fighting earlier that day. Her blue, purple and silver armor was beautifully made, and her pauldrons and gauntlets radiated a soft arcane glow. The armor sat on her small frame as if she'd been born to it, and it leant her a powerful, commanding air.

"Come in," he urged, standing back to allow her the space to move past him into the room.

Even without her battle-stained armor, Varian would have still suspected that she'd recently been fighting. The enhanced sense of smell he was gifted from the wolfish side of his nature never lied, and he could clearly scent blood and death and hellfire upon her, mixing oddly with the unique fragrance of her skin. She didn't look in any way injured, however, save for an impressive bruise blossoming on her left cheekbone.

Varian shut the door behind her. He turned, and was bewildered to see her gazing back at him sternly, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her fearsome armor only served to make her look even more forbidding. He raised an eyebrow.

"You can't just summon me any time you get bored, my Lord," she said reprovingly, by way of greeting.

Varian bristled, and strode over to stand toe to toe with her. Even stretched up to her full height, the top of her head was barely level with his shoulders. Nevertheless, she stared up at him fearlessly, as if the difference in their size was nonexistent.

"Actually, I can. That's one of the advantages of being king," Varian growled, though he was somewhat impressed at her willingness to stand up to him.

Her bright blue eyes narrowed slightly, but he guessed that she wasn't seriously irritated. After all, she was here. Varian wasn't usually one to tolerate insubordination, however mild, but he decided that he liked her fire.

"Besides," he added, more gently. "I had to make sure that you hadn't forgotten me."

"You're a hard man to forget, Your Majesty," she said enigmatically.

Her face was unreadable. Varian stepped away.

"I'm assuming you didn't come all this way just to lecture me," he observed. "And I've told you to call me Varian. Would you like a drink?"

Auriana gave him a swift, considered look, but then her face relaxed and she nodded. She divested herself of her bulky shoulder plates and gauntlets, before taking a seat in one of the comfortable chairs that lined the room. Varian strode over to his personal liquor cabinet and pulled it open.

"What would you like?"

"Anything but whiskey," she said, shrugging. "Or kungaloosh."

"No whiskey?" he said, with mock sternness. "I'm disappointed, Commander. What kind of soldier doesn't enjoy a fine whiskey?"

"One with a sense of taste?" she shot back innocently.

Varian smirked, though he couldn't fathom how anyone could dislike whiskey. He poured a glass of his favourite forty-year-old dwarven single-malt, as well as a Night Elven wine for Auriana. He offered her the glass as he settled himself into his favourite chair.

"I'm sensing there's a story with the kungaloosh," he said.

Auriana's ears flushed red, and she took a long sip of wine.

"I was very young," she said, not quite meeting his eyes. "I had… shall we say... an  _unfortunate_  experience in Northrend... and I'm not saying a single word more."

"I could order you," Varian said, only half-joking.

"You could torture me," she retorted. "I still wouldn't tell."

"That bad?" Varian snorted. "Do you know, I couldn't possibly picture you drunk."

"I'm not usually one for over-indulgence," she agreed. "But as I said, I was  _very_ young."

A moment of silence passed between them, though it was now more companionable than tense or awkward.

"I'm glad you came," Varian said quietly. "I really  _was_  beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

Auriana didn't reply, but she offered him a soft, tentative smile. His eyes flicked to the burns in her robe.

"Burning Legion," she explained, following his gaze. "I didn't bring up a frost shield in time, and one of the bastards smoked me. Er, pardon the language, my Lord."

"Light, Auriana, I was a gladiator," he reminded her. "Do you honestly think that's the worst thing I've heard?"

"I suppose not," she agreed, subtly chagrined.

"Are you injured?" he pressed, genuinely concerned.

"No," she said dismissively, as if he were asking about a paper cut instead of a blast of fel energy. "These robes are well enchanted. It will take more than some errant hellfire to harm me."

"What happened to your face?" he asked, gesturing to her darkened cheek.

The bruise already stood out starkly against her pale skin. It was still only half formed, but Varian knew from long experience that it would be quite nasty when she woke up the next morning.

"Damn," she growled. "I was hoping it wouldn't show."

"What happened?"

"It was stupid, really," she said. "I was so focused on the warlock I was dueling that I didn't see the felguard until he backhanded me in the face."

She touch a hand self-consciously to her cheek.

"I wouldn't worry, you still look…" Varian started, and then realised he couldn't quite find the right expression.

She raised her eyebrows, peering inquisitively at him over the rim of her wine glass. He caught the faintest hint of an amused smile on her lips.

"Good," he finished vaguely, after no better word sprang to mind.

It was true, he thought, eyeing her closely. When he'd first met Auriana in Tanaan Jungle, she'd looked gaunt and seriously underfed. She was still slender and wiry, of course, but in the time since her injury she'd obviously been eating better. She'd filled out slightly, and it had pleasantly softened the somewhat harsh lines of her face and body. Auriana blushed as she caught his intense stare, and Varian quickly looked away. They lapsed into silence once more, and he busied himself in his drink.

"What was it like? Being a gladiator, I mean," she asked suddenly, her bright eyes curious.

Varian frowned thoughtfully at the question. He hadn't really expected her to follow up on his quick quip from earlier.

"It was… bloody," he said honestly.

He hadn't discussed his experience as Lo'Gosh with very many people, and certainly not in any great detail. It was a time in his life that he had firmly put behind him, though ironically it was one of the few times in his past to which he would willingly return. A gladiator's life was a harsh one, but it had suited him perfectly. He wasn't temperamentally suited to the pomp and circumstance that often permeated his experience as king. He was a good wartime leader, but he knew he was an unconventional royal in many respects. As a gladiator, however, he had excelled, his natural aggression and physical skill making him a truly fearsome fighter.

"It's not an easy life," he continued quietly. "I was lucky to have survived my time in the ring, the life expectancy of a gladiator being what it is. It's monotonous, too. The days were all the same: eat, fight, sleep. We were treated poorly, of course, and we were never really given any time to recover from our fights. I practically forgot what it was like to live without pain, and all that really mattered was surviving the next fight."

He ducked his head. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the sweat and gore of the arena, feel the harsh steel of a sword in his hands, and hear the bloodthirsty roar of the crowd. He sighed.

"You miss it," she observed shrewdly, her gaze boring into him as if she could see into his very soul.

"Lo'Gosh's life was infinitely simpler than that of the King of Stormwind's," he said evasively, slightly unnerved that she'd been able to see through him so easily.

His reply was somewhat of an equivocation, but he didn't think it was a very inspiring example for his young commander to suggest that he wasn't satisfied with his role as king. Moreover, it wasn't that he was  _unsatisfied,_ precisely, though he couldn't deny that he was more restless than he'd been in years. If he had his way, he'd be out with Auriana or his other soldiers every day, taking the fight directly to the Iron Horde.

He shot her a quick look, and was surprised to see understanding reflected in her cool eyes. She seemed to sense his reticence to speak further about his past, however, and smoothly changed the topic to her recent battles in Gorgrond. He took another sip of his drink as she began to talk in earnest, her musical voice contrasting strangely with the violent topic of the conversation. The earthy whiskey sent a pleasant heat radiating through his chest, and as Varian relaxed back into his chair to listen to her story, he felt an unfamiliar sense of ease and contentment wash over him.


	12. Varian

Varian and Auriana had talked until late in the evening. The time had simply flown by, and Varian could scarcely remember a time when he'd been afforded such good conversation. He wasn't naturally talkative, and nor was she, but somehow they'd found a wealth of topics to discuss. Auriana was a compelling storyteller, despite her introversion, and an insightful strategist, even if she lacked Varian's extensive command experience. She'd finally left when she realised it was very early morning back on Draenor, and had hurriedly vanished in a burst of arcane power.

Varian had realised that he had erred when he'd summoned her so abruptly. By sending a formal message, he'd approached her as a king, not a friend, and he would always wonder if she'd felt forced to accept. In a lot of ways, she was like an untamed creature that he had managed to coax out of the wild. In the short time he'd known her, he had learned that if she ever felt pushed, she'd pull away instinctively. She would never dare say it outright, but it soon became clear that she would come to him on her own terms, or she wouldn't come at all.

Over the next few weeks, Varian had cautiously invited her back several times, until there was something of a tacit arrangement between them. They had never spoken directly on it, but she had started to simply appear on his threshold, unbidden. Unfortunately, her schedule was largely unpredictable and it was difficult to anticipate when she might appear, though she tried to send advance notice whenever she could. Draenor was a savage and rapidly changing environment, and she was often called suddenly to fight at the front. Most of the time, her presence was a pleasant surprise, and on average she managed to come back to Stormwind two or three times a week.

Eventually, his chamber guards had stopped questioning her presence, and she was permitted to simply knock on his door unescorted. Varian knew it probably wasn't the most appropriate thing, protocol wise, to have a young woman appearing regularly outside his chambers at night, but he'd never really cared much for the arbitrary rules of etiquette. As far as he was concerned, he was perfectly entitled to meet his friend and commander whenever he pleased, regardless of whether she happened to be female. Fortunately, his guards had thus far been unfazed by her frequent appearances, as far as Varian could tell. At the very least, no one had dared question him to his face, though admittedly people rarely did.

The nervous edge that had pervaded their early interactions had quickly relaxed into a genuine, if unlikely friendship. Varian had initially been drawn to Auriana's unwillingness to defer to him as king, and her ability to see past his crown. She was still respectful, of course, and slightly cautious, but for the most part she spoke to him as a comrade and a fellow warrior, rather than the High King of the Alliance. Varian found it utterly refreshing, though the more they spoke, the more he came to realise that she had much more to offer than the simple novelty of her indifference to his station. He soon learned that she had a surprisingly dark and self-deprecating sense of humour hidden deeply beneath her frosty exterior. She was one of the most intelligent people he'd ever met, and she had a deep and abiding sense of honour. She was a remarkably fast learner, and Varian willingly took advantage of the fact to expand her limited knowledge of politics, history, and economics.

Of course, he also learned that she had something of a temper, and was stubborn to a fault. She was the type of person who would defend to her dying breath that black was white simply because you told her that wasn't, and she hated being wrong. She was a very hard person to read, and he often wondered if she actually  _enjoyed_  spending time with him. Even though he had penetrated some of her natural defensiveness and she had relaxed considerably since their first meeting, she still played her emotions very close to her chest. She was never overly warm or effusive, but he would occasionally catch a quick grin or a wry laugh that made him suspect that she wasn't as distant as she seemed.

Varian also found himself somewhat jealous of the young mage. She typically returned to Stormwind at late hours, and she was usually fresh from some battle on Draenor. He could always smell the heat of bloodshed on her, even when she'd had time to clean up, and it roused his fury to no end. He longed to be out there with her, Shalamayne in hand, as she took the fight to the Iron Horde. Initially, his thirst for battle was simply a reflection of his desire for the black and white simplicity of a fighting man's life, but the more he came to know Auriana, the more he realised that there wasn't much he wouldn't do to keep her safe. The nights she didn't come back to Stormwind had become long tests of his patience, and he would inevitably wonder if she hadn't shown up because she was bleeding out on the floor of some alien jungle.

That said, the nights when he  _knew_ she was fighting were even worse. He soon learned not to ask where she would be on any given day, lest his mind conjure dark visions of her horrific demise. The more rational part of his mind knew that Auriana was very capable and powerful woman, and that she certainly didn't need to be watched as if she were some kind of child. He'd seen her fight when she was both injured and exhausted, and she'd still managed to put on an intimidating display of power. He genuinely pitied the enemy who had to fight her at full strength.

And yet… there was another part of him, a more primitive, instinctual part, which feared greatly for her life. Varian was a very protective person by nature, and being unable to protect Auriana directly irritated him to no end. Of course, he knew his usual method of protecting people was to keep them away from all potential harm, forcibly if necessary. He had learned the hard way from his interactions with Anduin that this wasn't remotely feasible, especially with someone as fiercely independent as Auriana, but that knowledge never quite seemed to quell his fears. Inevitably, he found himself suffering in silence while she told stories of fierce battles and near misses, his eyes raking her body for the slightest hint of injury. She would catch his brooding stare occasionally, as if she knew his thoughts, but she never said a word about his obvious concern. Varian also refused to speak his mind, knowing that it would likely bring her ire down upon him if she thought she were being coddled. Auriana was a fiercely proud woman, and she took the greatest pride in her formidable magical abilities. She'd never listen to a word he said if she thought he were questioning her competence as a warrior, and so Varian was forced to content himself with nothing more than a few hastily mumbled prayers to the Light that she would always return safely home.


	13. Varian

One night in early winter, Varian found himself alone in his study, staring contemplatively into a glass of whiskey. He'd had a thoroughly boring day, discussing shipping routes between Stormwind and Darnassus. It was necessary work, of course, and the Night Elf ambassador was a genuinely interesting and charming woman, but he would never be truly passionate about negotiations. The meeting had run over dinner, but he'd finally been able to excuse himself and retire to his quarters. He'd stayed up on the off chance that Auriana would visit, but it was now nearly midnight, and she had never come out this late. He'd just decided to give up for the night, when he heard the soft rap of knuckles on wood. Varian rose quickly to his feet and opened his door, trying not to let his quickening excitement show.

Auriana stood on his threshold clad in her intimidating battle armour, and she was breathing very heavily. Her hair was bound up, as it usually was when she had been fighting, though a few stray tendrils had come loose. She had grease or some other nasty black substance smeared up the side of her face, and her bright eyes were wild and alive with the thrill of battle. Varian surmised that she must have come directly from some recent skirmish.

"I need a drink," she said, by way of greeting.

Varian was never one to stand between a woman and a necessary libation, and so he hastily stepped out of her way.

"That bad?" he asked, as she swept past him.

"Well, bad for the Iron Horde," she said, grinning wolfishly.

Varian let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, but his relief was short lived. As she walked past him to the liquor cabinet for a bottle of wine, he was alarmed to see that the nape of her neck was entirely covered in dark, viscous blood. It looked to him as if something had tried to rip her head clean off.

"What happened to you?" he asked, concerned.

Auriana shot him a look over her shoulder and shook her head, nonplussed.

"Your neck is all bloody," he told her, frowning.

In the heat of battle, she probably hadn't even noticed she'd been injured.

"Damn. Sorry," she muttered, scratching futilely behind her ear. "I came straight from Gorgrond. I knew I should've taken the time to wash, but I wouldn't have been able to get back here in time to see you..."

She turned back to face him with a savage grin.

"It must have been one of Blackhand's grunts. One of them jumped me from behind and tried to tear out my throat. I didn't realise he'd drawn blood."

"And?" Varian said, wondering what had happened to the orc unfortunate enough to challenge her directly.

She shrugged delicately.

"I'm here. He isn't," she said simply.

"You should be more careful out there," Varian said warningly, breaking his usual vow of silence where her safety was concerned. "I need you."

Auriana's eyes widened at his turn of phrase.

"We need you," he repeated hurriedly, backpedaling. "What I meant to say was, the Alliance… needs you."

She eyed him shrewdly, her dark brows pulling together thoughtfully.

"Of course. It's always a hassle to have to find another commander," she said slowly, as if there was no other possible meaning to his remark.

Auriana turned away without another word. She scratched at her neck, and some of the caked blood came off on her fingers.

"You'll never get it off that way," Varian said firmly, changing the topic. "Here, allow me."

He rose and grabbed a cotton napkin, and dipped a corner into the water pitcher sitting on the table between them. Without thinking, he walked up behind her and gently dabbed the napkin against her bloody neck. Intent as he was on his task, it took him a moment to notice that she'd gone perfectly still at his touch, freezing like a frightened animal. Her breath came suddenly fast and shallow, and he felt the strong muscles of her back tense beneath his hand. He paused, confused by her reaction, but she didn't ask him to stop. Resuming the task cautiously, Varian wiped away the remaining blood and inspected the wound.

The orc had left three shallow scratches on the back of her neck. It was the type of injury that would have bled a fair bit, but was largely superficial. Certainly, she'd experienced far worse. He gently traced his fingers along the outline of the deepest cut.

"I don't think it will leave a mark," he determined finally. "But you should probably let one of your healers take a look at it."

"What's another one for the collection?" she said wryly. "But… that's good to know. Thank you."

As she spoke, Varian's fingers brushed against the top of the long, savage, white scar that he knew bisected the entire length of her back. Auriana actually shivered at his touch, and her neck broke out in gooseflesh. Varian dropped his hand instantly, surprised by her visceral reaction, and took a step back.

She settled into her chair without looking at him, and busied herself with pouring the wine.

"You know… you never did tell me what happened to your back," he said tentatively, taking the seat opposite her.

It wasn't a question that Varian ever thought he'd be able to ask, but it had been two months since the first time they had dined together, and he felt their friendship was finally on solid ground. Auriana didn't reply right away, instead choosing to take a long sip of her wine. She refused to look at him, instead staring fixedly at one of the stone busts that adorned the wall.

"It's a long story," she said deliberately, her posture suddenly tense and alert.

Varian knew this to be her usual response when she didn't want to talk about something, but there was something in the way she said it this time that seemed less forbidding. He wondered why she was so reluctant to speak on her scar. He could understand if she were self-conscious about the mark itself, but surely that didn't preclude telling the story of how she had acquired it. Instead of voicing his thoughts, however, he gave her a moment to gather her own, not wanting to discourage her from speaking.

"How much do you know about the laws of magic?" she asked.

"Precisely... nothing," Varian answered honestly, wondering why she had asked.

She chuckled slightly, and some of the tension visibly left her shoulders.

"From the moment a young mage comes into their powers, they must learn the four laws. It doesn't matter if you intend to join the Kirin Tor, or any other magical organisation, or none at all, you must learn the laws. Magical practice outside a true understanding of the laws is dangerous, to say the least," she explained.

Varian was suddenly reminded of the last time she had explained magical theory to him, in that Light-forsaken cave in Tanaan Jungle. Her voice now was starkly different. Instead of taking the tone of a disapproving schoolteacher, she spoke to him now with considerable more warmth and tolerance.

"I can still remember the first time Jaina Proudmoore taught me the laws. I was fourteen, and she scared me terribly," Auriana recalled, shaking her head ruefully.

She sat up straighter, as if preparing to deliver a speech, and raised a slender finger.

"'These laws will guide you your entire life, mageling. Learn them well,'" she intoned, in a fair impression of Jaina. "Magic is powerful. Magic is corrupting. Magic attracts the denizens of the Twisting Nether. And… magic is addictive. The laws are meant to remind us of the dark side of magic. It's very easy to get caught up in the beauty and the splendour of it, but every single time you forget what magical power really is, you take another step towards your own destruction… and the destruction of anyone unlucky enough to be around you at the time."

"I can see how that would have frightened you as a child," Varian commented. "I suppose I've never really appreciated how dangerous magic might be to practitioners."

"Why do you think so many of us fall to corruption, or go insane?" Auriana asked seriously, finally meeting his eyes. "You've seen first hand the damage the arcane has done to Azeroth. The Kirin Tor try to redress the balance where we can, but this world bears the scars of its magical history."

"You talk as if you're doomed to madness," he said worriedly.

She tilted her head as she considered his point carefully.

" _Doomed_  is perhaps putting it a bit strongly," she replied. "Obviously, many mages never succumb to the negative effects of magic use - Khadgar is a good example. It really comes down to the individual. Some of us are more susceptible to corruption and addiction than others."

"And are you… susceptible?" Varian asked, half-dreading the answer.

"Yes," she said simply. "I've always struggled with addiction to magic."

She took another long drink of wine, and Varian could see that the admission had cost her something. Her once-bright eyes looked suddenly haunted, and somehow she looked even paler than usual.

"I've got a lot working against me as far as magical addiction is concerned," she continued. "I'm powerful, for a start."

"Power is bad?"

"Very," she said seriously. "Mages of ability can wield significantly more arcane power than those who are less naturally gifted. It's a simple equation, really - the more power running through you, the harder it is to resist."

She reached for the bottle of wine again. Varian was surprised to see she'd somehow drained her first glass when he wasn't looking.

"I also bear the burden of my family history," she said carefully, as if afraid to speak of it. "I have berserker blood from my mother's line. It's even in our name, actually - Saevian means 'fury'. Not all of us have it, of course, but does run in our family. My grandfather had a little, and his father… and… me."

Varian sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin, intrigued but not all that surprised by this new information. He thought back to watching her fight in Tanaan, and the heedless savagery with which she'd dispatched countless orcs. He'd seen warrior-berserkers fight before, and now that he thought about it, she had shown exactly the same glassy-eyed fury.

The idea that Auriana had berserker blood concerned him greatly. While powerful, he knew berserkers were incredibly dangerous to both themselves and others. They were able to shrug off vicious injuries as if they were nothing, and usually didn't stop until everything that moved in their vicinity was dead. He'd never seen it in a spellcaster before, however, and he wondered just how powerful she actually was. He considered her thoughtfully, and was surprised to see her cheeks flush bright with shame as she averted her gaze.

"What does this have to do with your back?" Varian asked, trying to shift the conversation in order to spare her feelings.

What she was saying was very interesting, and certainly illuminating, but he didn't see how it was related to whatever serious injury she had suffered.

"I'm getting there," she said, though her tone was gentle. "I'll tell you the story, but… I think you should also understand why I never talk about it. Patience, my Lord."

She cleared her throat.

"I knew my family's history, of course, but I thought the fury had passed over me, as it had my mother. Hell, the first time I ever killed anything, I threw up for about an hour afterwards," she said ruefully. "It wasn't until I was called to fight Deathwing that I realised I hadn't been as fortunate as my mother in escaping the Saevian legacy."

Varian leant forward, thoroughly absorbed in her story.

"I was among those dispatched to fight Deathwing when he moved on Wyrmrest Temple," she said, speaking rather quickly. "I was still relatively inexperienced at the time, but I was strong. Against an actual Aspect, we needed straight-up power more than anything else. I also had good relations with members of the red dragonflight."

She paused to take another sip of wine.

"I won't bore you with the details, but against all odds, we triumphed over Deathwing in the air," she continued. "Thrall was able to blast him with the Dragon Soul, and sent him tumbling into the Maelstrom. We fell with him, but with some quick magic our group all landed safely."

She shivered.

"I can still remember it as if it happened yesterday. We all thought he'd been vanquished, but the big bastard refused to die. He clipped me with his claws as he dragged his way out of the waters of the Maelstrom, and opened up my back. I'm lucky he only hit a glancing blow. If I'd moved a second later and I would've been dead. It felt like he'd torn me in two, ripped out my spine and then poured molten fire into the space where it used to be."

Varian didn't react visibly, but he felt his stomach constrict as she described her agony. He'd suffered his fair share of grievous wounds, but he could imagine few things worse than the injury she was describing.

"I remember screaming,  _begging_  my allies to kill me, but I couldn't even pass out to spare myself the pain. I should've stayed down… I  _wish_ I'd stayed down, but instead… I snapped. I went berserk. I didn't give a damn whether I lived or died, whether I hurt friend or foe, all I cared about was causing as much damage as I could," she said darkly. "My rage and lust for magic fed on one another, and I started summoning ungodly amounts of power."

"So what happened?"

"I had... a good friend. Another mage, actually, Darion Hailey. He realised how much power I was drawing on, and the extent of my injuries. I could have… I  _would_  have torn myself apart… along with almost everyone around me, if I'd been left to my own devices. Fortunately, Darion knocked me over the head, and I woke up a week later in Theramore with this scar on my back and no memory of what had happened after he struck me."

She ducked her head, as if scared to look to look at Varian and face his judgement of her actions.

"Auriana, it isn't unheard of for soldiers to lose control when under great duress. The shock of such an injury would be enough to drive anyone mad," he pointed out, his voice calm and kindly. "I've seen it before. Some people run, some people shut down… and some people fight. It doesn't mean you're addicted to magic."

"It's not just that. I could handle the rage alone, I think, but…"

She swallowed nervously, and Varian could see her hands shaking.

"I wanted… I wanted all of them to  _kneel_. Deathwing, Alexstrasza, Thrall… I didn't care who bore the brunt of my rage, I just wanted all of them to  _cower_ , to despair before my power and fury. And I  _believed_  it, Varian, I absolutely thought I could bring them to heel," she said.

Her face contracted as if she were in physical pain, and she ran a hand nervously through her hair. It seemed to Varian as if a floodgate had broken, and now that she had started talking, she couldn't stop.

"Magic is… there's nothing like it," she rambled. "It felt like the entirety of time and space was running through my veins. I was  _invincible_. I don't know what would have happened if Darion hadn't taken me out. It's a strange conundrum - I know I should never want to feel like that again, but at the same time… I've never felt more alive."

"I know how you feel," Varian said gently. "There's something indescribably powerful about the thrill of battle. It can be… exhilarating, even though you know it probably shouldn't be."

She shook her head, and shot him a frustrated look.

"You don't understand. Honestly, I feel like I'm trying to explain a sunset to a blind mind here. Varian… that was the  _best_ moment of my  _life_. Nothing… nothing I have  _ever_  experienced has even come  _close_ to that handful of minutes," she said, her quiet voice more serious than he'd ever heard it. "Think back to the first time you held your son, or… or when you married your wife. Remember how that felt… and then multiply that feeling a hundredfold."

Varian didn't know what to say. He wasn't an openly demonstrative man, but his emotions ran deep. He couldn't imagine being more exultant than when he had heard Anduin's first cry, or more overjoyed than when he'd taken Tiffin as his wife. He was tempted to write Auriana's argument off as hyperbole - after all, she was still young, unmarried, and childless - until he saw the look on her face.

"Is that why you practice such control?" he asked. "When we first met, you always looked as if you were carved from stone."

She nodded her head, and let out a sad, rueful sigh.

"Mostly. I was still… happier, I suppose, before Theramore, but mostly it's because I live in fear of that day. That was the first and only time I've ever truly lost control. I've come close since then, a few times actually, but I've never experienced anything like that day. Light, after the events at the Maelstrom, I didn't cast a single spell for over a month. I couldn't bring myself to do it, I couldn't bring myself to take the risk. I don't think I would have ever used magic again, but Darion coaxed it out of me. He convinced me I could learn to control my temptation and fury."

"You loved him," Varian said abruptly, in sudden awareness.

He wondered why he'd taken so long to connect the dots. She'd hinted at a lost love before, and from the way her voice went soft at the mention of the other mage's name, Varian strongly suspected he was the man she had spoken of.

"I did," she said slowly. "At least, I thought I did. He died in Theramore before… well, before anything came of it. I never told him."

She spoke of it somewhat dismissively, but Varian could see misery written all across her face. He tactfully pretended not to notice the sudden glassy sheen to her blue eyes. He sensed that asking after the man further was a bad idea, and decided to try a different tack.

"Could you have done it?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Made Deathwing or the others kneel, I mean, when you were channeling that much power?"

Auriana looked up at him thoughtfully, as if she'd never truly considered the question.

"No," she said firmly, "Considering they were all of them Aspects. If I'd had an artifact like the Focusing Iris, perhaps I'd would've come close, but more likely I would have torn  _myself_  apart before I did any real damage to anyone else. I didn't have the experience or the skill to have handled that much energy safely. However... I won't deny that there are few mortal mages who could outclass me in terms of magical power. Certainly no one I've met, save perhaps for Khadgar."

"Not even Jaina?" Varian asked, surprised.

"In raw terms, no. But Jaina has  _extraordinary_ finesse, and in magic skill will almost always beat brute strength, all other things being equal," she explained. "Jaina's a master of the art. She could have me dead before I had even realised we were fighting."

"Interesting," Varian said seriously. "I suppose I'm showing my ignorance here, but I'd never really thought on the difference between skill and power when it came to magic. Certainly I know nothing of how mages rank power against one another."

"You're a warrior, correct?" she started thoughtfully, trying to find the right words. "It's sort of the equivalent of… say you trained your strength and stamina as much as you were able, and you became the strongest man alive…"

"I've already done that," Varian interrupted roguishly, trying to lighten her mood.

Auriana rolled her eyes, though he could she was trying very hard not to smirk.

"As I was saying," she continued sternly, "You  _might_ be the strongest man alive, but if you'd never practiced the sword a day in your life, a skilled bladesman would have you dead to rights, no matter your superior strength."

"So Jaina is the nimble swordsman..." Varian surmised thoughtfully.

"... and I'm the ugly muscle bound brute with no neck, yes," she finished, deadpan.

Varian barked out a laugh, struggling to picture her as such, and the barely disguised grin on her face broke into a soft smile. It was a welcome relief from the tension of their earlier conversation, though he could clearly see that her smile didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Magically speaking, of course," she added.

"Of course," he agreed sincerely. "You're anything but brutish."

It was true, he thought. In her own way, she was quite striking. He hadn't really noticed it before, for she wasn't beautiful in the same way that most noblewomen were beautiful. She lacked the fine features or elegant bearing of a classical beauty, but she had the powerful physical presence of a sleek predator, like a wild jungle cat or an alpha wolf.

"Perhaps not, I'm a little too small to be taken seriously as a brute," she said slyly, interrupting his train of thought. "That said, I once overheard Jaina describe me as 'the magical equivalent of a battering ram.'"

"I can relate, actually. My first instructor in the sword likened me to 'a Tauren bull in a glassmaker's shop,'" Varian told her, grinning. "Apparently, we are neither of us subtle warriors."

"Yes, well, nothing says subtle quite like a sword that's as big as I am tall," she quipped, some of her earlier spark returning to her voice.

However, the brief moment of levity passed all too quickly. Auriana tensed once more in her seat as they sat in silence, her eyes darkening. When she spoke again, her voice was low and bitter.

"That scar…" she said, all but whispering, "It's so much more than just a line on my back. It represents the worst of me. It's a permanent reminder of what I could be… of what I  _am_. I'm only grateful that it isn't on my chest, or my face, so that I don't have to see it every day in the mirror."

Varian reached for her hand, and squeezed it firmly. She looked up in complete astonishment, but didn't pull away. Her skin was very cold, and he vaguely wondered if it was a side effect of her frost abilities. He leant forward, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"You are  _not_ your rage," he said softly.

A myriad of emotions flashed briefly across her face, but Varian couldn't have named a single one. For an all too brief second, it almost looked as if she believed him, but instead she withdrew her hand from his grasp and rose shakily to her feet.

"It's late," she said, rubbing her hand across her eyes. "I really should be getting back to the garrison."

"Of course," Varian said smoothly, rising to match her.

Evidently, she felt that she'd said enough for one night. He couldn't blame her. Their conversation had been extremely personal, and he could clearly see how hard it was for her to tell her story. He had no intention of pushing her to talk further now that she'd firmly clammed up, but he did feel that something important had shifted between them.

She strode for the door determinedly, belying the pain behind her eyes. For his part, Varian simply stood, thinking on all the new information he'd gleaned this evening. If nothing else, the young mage suddenly made a lot more sense. She'd just reached for the doorknob when Varian had a sudden realisation.

"You called me Varian," he blurted.

"What?" she said, pausing.

"Before… you called me Varian. Twice, actually. You never do that," he observed.

She blinked rapidly as she took a second to consider his statement. It certainly wasn't the most crucial thing she'd said this evening, but to Varian it was strangely important.

"Probably just a slip of the tongue," she said finally.

Her tone was deliberately casual, though Varian could see a gentle smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"Ah. Most likely," he agreed, straight-faced, though his chest leapt with strange hope. "Goodnight, Auriana."

"Goodnight… Varian."


	14. Auriana

Auriana slept in late the next morning. She was generally an early riser, but for once she allowed herself the luxury of a long sleep in. There were no pressing situations out in the field that she was aware of, and she trusted Thorn to wake her if some sort of crisis developed that demanded her immediate attention. She had also desperately needed the sleep, having not arrived back in Lunarfall until nearly four in the morning, the time difference between Draenor and Azeroth Prime being what it was. It was debatable whether she should have visited Wrynn that late, but she had started to feel that a night without his conversation was a night oddly wasted. It had been a long time since she'd genuinely enjoyed conversing with  _anyone_ , and she was surprisingly reluctant to squander any opportunity to see him.

She stretched indulgently, relishing the feel of the soft sheets against her bare legs. From the light outside and the sounds of her busy garrison, she guessed it was about mid-morning. Realising that she'd best be getting up, she rolled reluctantly out of bed and strolled over to her dresser, yawning loudly.

Auriana pulled her thick hair over her shoulder, and contemplatively examined herself in the mirror. She looked well-rested, if a bit bleary eyed, and she'd gained a few pounds over the past few months. Admittedly, she'd needed to, given that she could still see the stark outline of her ribs and her jutting hip bones. She turned slowly, and lifted up her nightshirt to reveal her vicious scar. In truth, she rarely looked at her back, preferring to forget that the mark existed. It was certainly ugly, though the healers had done their best to minimise the damage to her skin. Fortunately, it stood out less against her pale complexion that it might have done on someone darker.

Normally, viewing the scar caused her heart to twist in fear and shame, but as she ran her fingers across the small of her back, she felt only a dull, aching pain in the pit of her stomach. It still wasn't a pleasant feeling, but for the first time she found her scar tolerable. She wondered if the change could be explained by her late-night conversation with Wrynn.

That said, she hadn't been brave enough to tell the King the whole story. She deliberately hadn't mentioned how dangerously close she'd come to unleashing her inner berserker during the Siege of Orgrimmar. Not because of pain and shock, as had happened in the Maelstrom, but by conscious choice. Her fear had eventually beaten her lust for Hellscream's blood, if only by a narrow margin, but she could never forget that she'd been willing to destroy everyone and everything around her for a chance at the former warchief's head. In a way, the realisation of what she had been willing to become had wounded her soul almost as much as the loss of her parents and the man she had loved.

It was part of the reason why she had volunteered to go through the Dark Portal with the Iron Vanguard. Auriana honestly hadn't thought that she'd deserved to live after her near miss at Orgrimmar, and the best she had hoped for was to go down in a blaze of glory for the Alliance. She'd long suspected Khadgar had seen the darkness within her, and had given her command of Lunarfall garrison in order to save her life. Auriana had been qualified for command, certainly, but there had better people for the job. Khadgar had apparently reasoned that giving her the garrison would give her something to fight for, something to protect, in the hope that she wouldn't throw her life away needlessly.

Evidently, he'd been right.

She hadn't told Wrynn any of this, of course, but she wondered if perhaps she could have. Much to her astonishment, he'd listened to the truth of her and he hadn't flinched. She knew Wrynn was a warrior, and that he knew much of rage, but she honestly hadn't expected such quiet understanding. Certainly not from a man who she had once professed to hate, not even three months earlier.

_It's funny how things change,_  she mused.

She'd never expected that she'd would be able to share such a thing with Wrynn, but now that she had, it seemed strangely right. There was something about sharing her story, about unburdening the darkest part of her soul that made her feel lighter than she had in years. She knew she'd never be the same person she had been before the fall of Theramore, but nor did she think she was still the same woman who had charged so blindly through the Dark Portal. She was now caught somewhere in between - harder than she had been, but no longer quite so sad.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Auriana tamed her hair into a loose braid, and swapped her bedclothes for a pair of loose pants, boots, and a long-sleeved overshirt. She had no particular duties to attend to today, and so she chose to dress for comfort, rather than formality.

She hastened downstairs, and was surprised to find Lieutenant Thorn and a liveried Stormwind courier awaiting her in the atrium.

"Good morning, Commander," Thorn said slyly as she entered. "I was just about to come and get you. It appears you have another message from the King."

Auriana nodded in acknowledgement of Thorn's greeting, as the courier handed her an envelope stamped with Wrynn's personal seal. It had been some time since he'd sent her any official communication, and she wondered why he'd felt the need to suddenly formalise their correspondence, especially given the unexpected intimacy of their conversation the night before.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, ma'am," the courier said. "The King gave me no specific information, though he did ask me to wait for your reply."

Curious, Auriana thumbed the seal and withdrew a formal invitation, printed in flowing black script and decorated with the proud lion's head of the Alliance. She looked closer, and realised that the letterhead had been wrought in actual gold filigree. A second, handwritten note had also been included.

She let out a soft snort of surprise as she read the invitation. Apparently, she had been officially summoned to the upcoming Winter's Veil Ball, in her capacity as garrison commander. She naturally tended to avoid formal events, but she knew enough of the Stormwind court to understand the importance of the Ball. It was a considerable honour to have been invited, though she did wonder how she, of all people, had made the list.

She turned her attention to the handwritten note, and quickly recognised Wrynn's inelegant scrawl.

_The Feast of Winter's Veil begins in three days, and Stormwind traditionally hosts a ball to open the festivities._

_I thought you might like to come. Khadgar will be there, too, you'd both be my personal guests._

_You can send a reply with the courier._

_\- V_

_P.S. It's a formal event, let me know if you need a dress and I'll see to it that you're taken care of._

Auriana bit her lip, slightly irked at Wrynn's assumption that she wouldn't have anything appropriate to wear. She knew she wasn't some pampered noblewoman, of course, but she wasn't some sort of uncultured feral, either.

"What is it, Commander?" Thorn asked.

Auriana looked up from the note and met Thorn's bright, inquisitive gaze.

"It appears that Archmage Khadgar and I have been invited to attend the Winter's Veil Ball," she said slowly.

"Oh, you must go!" Thorn urged.

Auriana raised her eyebrows, thrown by Thorn's sudden and uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"I served as a guard for King Greymane at the Ball last year," the worgen lieutenant explained quickly. "It was… simply magnificent, Commander."

Auriana looked back down at the invitation, trying to hide her smile. For all her bravado and fierce pride, Thorn had a surprisingly romantic soul. Auriana strongly suspected that anything beautiful enough to make Thorn gush would be worth seeing, but nevertheless, she wavered in her intentions. She'd never been to a ball before, much less a royal one, and the idea of it struck her as somewhat boring. On the other hand, she had responsibilities as a Commander, and it occurred to her that it would be a considerable insult to Wrynn if she refused his personal invitation.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the courier gave a soft, unobtrusive cough, and she realised that he was still waiting on her reply. She sighed.

"Please tell the King that… that I would be honoured to attend the Winter's Veil celebrations as his guest," she said finally, as if there were anything else she could say. "And thank him for his kind invitation. I'll see him in three days hence."

* * *

The day of the Winter's Veil Ball, Auriana awoke early, but not to prepare for the evening's festivities. Instead, she'd donned her familiar, well-worn armour and led a raiding party deep into the wide green plains of Nagrand. She supposed other attendees would already be getting ready, seeing to their hair or perhaps luxuriating in a warm bath, while  _she_ was stuck in some muddy crevice, waiting to assault a group of Warsong orcs.

Auriana's spies in Nagrand had indicated that there would be a messenger traveling between Grommashar and Tanaan today, carrying vital information about Warsong troop movements and fortifications. If she intended to move on the Warsong stronghold, that intelligence could make the difference between a successful attack and a rout. She hoped she'd return to the garrison in time to make herself presentable, but she was not going to miss such an opportunity just to attend a dance.

She lay flat on her stomach between two large boulders. Her small party had set up an ambush point along one of the main trails used by the Warsong. She only had a handful of soldiers with her, but if this raid went down successfully, they would be able to crush the orc party within minutes, and be out of Nagrand before anyone was the wiser. Below, she could just barely make out a number of her front line troops, including her Death Knight shadow, Delvar Ironfist. They were well concealed, and if Auriana hadn't known where they were hidden, she wouldn't have been able to see them. She and the other spellcasters were positioned high up on a rocky outcropping above the road, where they could fight unimpeded while her other soldiers engaged the orcs in the melee.

Auriana largely lacked the patience for any sort of ambush, but today she had little choice. Her spies had been unable to specifically determine when the messenger would be coming by, only that it would happen today, and so far she had been lying in wait for nearly four hours. Her back and shoulders burned, but she didn't dare move, lest it give their position away. To add insult to injury, it had rained the night before, and the gentle Nagrand sun had failed to burn away the last of the mud. She could feel it squelch nastily beneath her belly every time she shifted her weight.

It was late afternoon when her party finally saw action. Auriana had set up a number of wards in a one mile perimeter, and they promptly alerted her to a small group of orcs riding in from the south. She slid forward carefully, keeping her head low, and focused her gaze on the road. The largely flat plains of Nagrand afforded her good vision, and she soon caught sight of her intended prey. She estimated there were about twenty orcs, more than she had anticipated, and all of them were mounted on fearsome direwolves. They were moving swiftly, and were arranged in formation around an orc that must have been the long-awaited messenger. She exchanged a quick look with the warlock lying next to her, and whistled a sharp note of birdsong to alert the men on the ground. She heard Ironfist give the answering whistle, and she knew her troops were ready to spring to action upon her command.

As the group of orcs galloped closer, Auriana prepared to summon a huge wave of frost. She timed the spell carefully, waiting until the orcs had just passed her hiding place before she struck.

"For Lunarfall!" she bellowed savagely.

Auriana leapt to her feet, and unleashed every last vestige of the power that she'd been holding. A spectacular upthrust of frost exploded beneath the feet of the orc party, binding them in place. Several of the slower orcs were thrown as their mounts came to an abrupt halt, though most of them managed to keep their seats. The direwolves themselves snarled in dismay as they found themselves unable to move, and began to snap viciously at the ice encasing their legs. Auriana refused to give anyone a chance to run free. She thrust a hand into the sky, and a barrage of icy comets crashed relentlessly onto the frozen orcs. Beside her, she felt the warlock start summoning bursts of wild green fire, and on her other side a tall draenei shaman began calling down crackling lightning. Ironfist and the other hidden swordsmen charged into the fray, hacking down the Warsong where they stood.

In the sudden chaos of the melee, the orc messenger had seen his opportunity. He dived away from his stricken direwolf, ducked under a mighty blow from Ironfist, and threw himself into a dead sprint back down the road towards Grommashar.

"Runner!" Auriana screamed, unable to stop his desperate flight from her current position.

Her heart leapt in fear. This assault would all be for nothing if the messenger escaped. She prepared to blink after him, when he was suddenly taken in the neck by an arrow. She caught the eye of the well-trained garrison ranger who had fired the shot, and gave him a respectful nod. She allowed herself a brief sigh of relief, and then resumed her frenzied assault on the remaining Warsong orcs.

As she had predicted, the battle was fierce but short-lived. The Warsong had been taken completely by surprise, and had offered scant resistance. They had been unable to stand up against the barrage of magic from above and the savagery of the melee assault combined.

Auriana looked down on the battlefield with a grim satisfaction as the last orc fell. All the fallen bodies were those of Warsong orcs, while her own men stood proud, strong, and unharmed. The quiet voice in the back of her mind demanded  _more_ , insisting that she continue the slaughter, but Auriana firmly ignored it. She was well used to it by now, and a simple ambush wasn't enough to arouse her true fury.

She jumped down lightly from her vantage point, and jogged up the road to where the messenger had fallen. She approached him cautiously, on the off chance he was still alive, but it was soon clear that the orc had taken his final breath. She knelt down carefully and rifled through the satchel strapped on his back. On his person, the messenger carried a number of hastily scribbled documents. They were written in orcish, of course, but Auriana was fluent in the guttural language. Even from a quick glance, she could tell that the intelligence was extremely important. She grunted in satisfaction, and carefully tucked the precious documents into her robes.

"Burn the bodies," Auriana ordered, as she strode back down the hill. "It won't be long before someone realises that the courier is missing, and I don't want them to find any evidence of who lead the assault."

At her command, both the shaman and warlock began to channel flames down upon the fallen orcs. Auriana quickly added her own fire to the blaze. She wasn't nearly as skilled with fire magic as she was with frost, but she certainly had enough power to burn a few orc corpses. As she and the other spellcasters worked, the rest of her troops spread out, forming a protective perimeter around the battle site.

Far to the south, Auriana heard the mournful cry of an orcish war horn. It was soon answered by a second, and then a third. Her eyes flicked nervously to the horizon, and she poured more power into the rising flames. The orcs were now fully ablaze, and the air was thick with the smell of charred flesh. She decided it would have to be enough, unwilling to risk staying a moment longer.

"Alright, that will do. Time to leave!" she commanded, preparing to open a portal back to Lunarfall. "We got what we came for. Let's go home."

* * *

Auriana called Thorn and Ironfist into the war room as soon as she'd returned her troops safely to the garrison, and immediately got to work decoding the intelligence. She soon realised that it was everything she had hoped it would be - a clear and concise report detailing exact troop numbers and the strength of the stronghold's defenses. Unfortunately, it seemed that Grommashar was better fortified than she'd initially anticipated. Hellscream had apparently been consolidating his power, perhaps in anticipation of an assault on Fort Wrynn or Vol'jin's Pride in Talador.

Auriana frowned. She'd intended to move against Grommashar shortly, but with her current garrison strength, a direct assault would prove to be costly.

"What are you thinking, Commander?" Thorn asked, sensing her mood.

Auriana rubbed her eyes. Her head hurt from the effort of translating orcish for Thorn and Ironfist, and she was bitterly disappointed by what the intelligence had revealed.

"It appears that Hellscream's position is stronger than we'd calculated. As it stands, a siege would be... risky, at best. I also don't want to move against Grommashar until everything south of Highpass and west of Fort Wrynn is properly secured," she said.

"We'll need more troops, then," Thorn pointed out, quickly grasping the reality of the situation. "Unless, of course, you're prepared to sacrifice ground in Talador or the Spires to make up our garrison strength."

"I'm not," Auriana said firmly, though in the back of her mind she wondered if she  _weren't_ prepared to give up everything for a chance at Garrosh Hellscream. "There's no point taking Grommashar, but losing everything else we've worked so hard to gain."

"Could ye ask the King ta send us more troops?" Ironfist suggested. "It would go a long way ta providing adequate coverage of these areas while we move our forces west. He'd listen ta ye."

"I can try," Auriana replied, drumming her fingers thoughtfully on the table. "Thorn - draft up a formal request for an audience with the King and the House of Nobles, and leave it on my desk. I'll sign it, and we'll send it through to Stormwind in the morning."

She looked at the clock sitting upon her desk, and realised that she had limited time to get ready before Khadgar arrived to escort her back to the Winter's Veil Ball. She'd certainly need a bath, given that she was still caked in mud and sweat, and it would take some time to dry her long hair. She sighed.

"In the meantime, however," she continued, "I need to get ready for this damn ball."

"Do you want me to send someone up to act as a lady's maid, Commander? I believe there's a few of our ladies who could fulfill the role," Thorn offered.

"What?" Auriana said, nonplussed.

"A lady's maid," Thorn repeated. "Someone to help you dress, and perhaps do something with your hair…"

"I know what a lady's maid  _is_ ," Auriana snapped irritably. "The point that I was  _trying_  to make, Lieutenant, is that I've been dressing myself for twenty five years. I haven't suddenly forgotten how."

She paused, frowning.

"Wait… what's wrong with my hair?"

Thorn and Ironfist exchanged a look.

"I'll send someone up," Thorn said kindly.


	15. Khadgar

Draenor was bathed in soft purple twilight by the time Khadgar arrived at Lunarfall garrison. He was dressed formally, having eschewed his normally practical garb in favour of a set of well-made black and silver robes. His search for Gul'Dan had thus far proven frustrating, and he was was looking forwards to an evening of fine wine and good conversation.

A number of people waved in greeting as Khadgar materialised near the garrison fountain. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement as he swept up the stairs into the town hall, where he found the worgen Lieutenant Thorn awaiting him.

"Greetings, Archmage!" she said warmly. "Welcome back to Lunarfall."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Khadgar replied. "Tell me - where might I find your esteemed Commander?"

"She's upstairs, Archmage. She just sent her lady's maid down, so she should be almost ready to leave. Shall I fetch her for you?"

"No, it's quite alright. I'll go to her directly," Khadgar said. "Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant."

He offered Thorn a warm smile, and then made his way upstairs to Auriana's personal chambers. He was pleased to see that the garrison looked clean, well-run, and efficient. Khadgar was well aware he'd taken a risk, putting Lunarfall in Auriana's hands, but from all accounts, his young commander had acquitted herself well.

Khadgar rapped gently on the door to her rooms.

"Auriana?"

"Is that you, Khadgar?" she called back. "I'll just be a minute."

He stood back to wait, when there came a strange series of thumps and pained grunts.

"Um… Auri? Are you alright?"

Khadgar wasn't overly familiar with the way women dressed, but he was fairly sure it wasn't supposed to sound like that.

"I'm fine," she shouted back irritably.

"If you're sure," he said skeptically, leaning his long frame against the wall. "You know, you don't sound all that excited about our evening out."

"Well, I can think of a few things I'd rather be doing," she said honestly. "I'm not exactly… sociable."

"I promise you, these formal events aren't quite as bad you seem to think they are. Besides, it's quite the honour to be invited to the Winter's Veil Ball," he reminded her. "As a guest of the King, no less."

"Spoken like someone who has never had to wear a ball gown," she said glumly.

"Just get out here," he said, rolling his eyes in amusement.

"Promise you won't laugh?" she asked quietly, and he was surprised to detect genuine nervousness in her voice.

"I promise. Why would I laugh?" he wondered, thoroughly nonplussed.

"Because… I've no idea, actually. Perhaps because it's me in a dress?" she said, emerging from her room.

Khadgar let out a slow breath of appreciation. Auriana was wearing an elaborate midnight blue ball gown that contrasted magnificently with her pale, silvery skin. The dress plunged daringly low in the front, and laced tightly around her trim waist. Khadgar vaguely wondered if she'd always had such a nice little figure. Gemstones glinted on the bodice of her dress like a thousand tiny stars, and many more glittered at her wrists and throat. Her lips were plump and red, and she'd done something to her eyes to make them look huge and even more deeply blue.

He realised he was staring when she frowned, and brushed a softly curling lock of hair behind her ear.

"You're laughing!" she accused.

"I'm not," he protested, trying to hide his smile. "I promise."

She glowered.

"You're very pretty," he teased.

He was being genuine, but he knew she wouldn't see it that way.

"Oh, shut up," she growled dismissively, though he thought he saw her flush at his compliment. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"That's not the right attitude for a young woman attending her first ball," Khadgar said teasingly, as he gallantly offered her his arm. "I believe you're supposed to feel like a princess, eagerly awaiting your chance to enchant the King with your as yet unrevealed beauty, sultry eyes, and heaving bosom."

"My... what? Khadgar... you really need to stop reading those damned steamy romance novels," she admonished, looping her arm through his.

"Do you have any idea how boring it gets out there in Zangarra sometimes? There's more to who I am than just hunting Gul'Dan, you know," he said, enjoying their banter.

"I'm sure you could find another hobby," she said, as they walked out of the town hall and into the garrison courtyard.

"Such as?"

"Literally anything else," she replied, deadpan, but he could see a bright twinkle in her eyes. "Knitting, perhaps?"

Khadgar grinned. Auriana was a very different person when she relaxed, her cool neutrality replaced with a dark, sly wit. He decided he liked the change.

"How are we getting to the Keep?" she asked, as they made their way to the centre of the garrison. "I'm not traipsing all over Stormwind in this bloody dress."

"Never fear, I thought that we'd travel in style," Khadgar told her.

He gathered his power, and in an instant the two mages were transported to the outer gates of Stormwind Keep. He'd attended the Winter's Veil Ball on numerous occasions, but the splendour of the Keep never failed to stir his heart. Large, decorative trees framed the portcullis, and lush wreaths adorned the ramparts. Great bonfires lit the path as Auriana and Khadgar made their way inside, joining the crowd of beautifully dressed Alliance citizens.

He heard Auriana gasp softly as they entered the Grand Ballroom, and he could easily see why she was impressed. The room looked absolutely beautiful, even more so than the magnificent gates. Great silken banners bearing the Stormwind and Alliance crests hung from the ceiling, and thousands of candles bathed the room in a rich golden light. Someone had even wrought an enchantment that sent a light breeze of snowflakes cascading from the ceiling. All throughout the room, members of all races of the Alliance wore their very best as they drank, laughed and danced.

Khadgar paused at the very top of the ballroom's palatial staircase, waiting to be announced by the herald. Ahead of them, an impossibly beautiful Night Elf couple awaited their own introduction. Auriana elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"We have to walk downstairs in front of everyone?" she asked breathlessly, her face paling slightly.

"Yes," Khadgar said, confused by her anxiety. "Don't worry, it'll only take a minute."

Auriana didn't reply, but her mouth drew into a thin, tight line. She smoothed her skirts nervously as Khadgar gave their names.

"Presenting Archmage Khadgar, of the Sons of Lothar, and Mage-Commander Auriana Fenwild, of Lunarfall," the herald announced grandly to the assembled crowd.

"'Mage-Commander?'" Auriana whispered, her eyebrows raised.

"Well, you are a member of the Kirin Tor, and you do command the garrison at Lunarfall. You're entitled to the appellation, Mage-Commander," he said.

A number of curious eyes swung their way as they descended the stairs. Auriana leaned on him rather heavily for balance, and he could see that she was trying very hard not to trip over her silk heels. Khadgar paid little mind to the glances and whispers that came their way as they moved into the glamorous crowd, but it appeared Auriana had most definitely noticed the attention.

"Are you alright?" Khadgar asked, concerned. "I can feel you shaking."

''They're all staring at me," she whispered.

"Oh, they're just nobles. It's mostly all they do. Right now they're wondering who you are, why you're here with me, and most importantly, how they can exploit that information," Khadgar replied, unperturbed.

"That isn't as reassuring as you might think," she told him drily.

"Make sure you dance with Varian, that will really get them talking," Khadgar said lightly, patting her arm.

"That's precisely what I'm hoping to avoid," she said, looking around the room like a hunted animal.

Khadgar led her swiftly to the back of the hall, and thrust a glass of sparkling wine into her hands.

"Here," he said, "This should help."

Auriana breathed a grateful sigh of relief, and downed half the glass in a single, unrefined gulp.

"Easy," he warned her. "You're trying to relax, not win a Brewfest competition."

She swatted his arm in consternation, but he could see that she was trying not to smile. Eager to put her at ease, Khadgar struck up a conversation about a number of important nobles and other dignitaries. Although initially reluctant, Auriana was nevertheless swept up in the conversation, and they were soon gossiping about who'd donned the most outlandish outfit for the evening. He'd just managed to get her to actually giggle, when there came a triumphant blast of horns from above.

"Your attention please," the herald intoned. "I present His Royal Majesty, High King of the Alliance and King of Stormwind, Lord Varian of the House of Wrynn, and His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of Stormwind, Lord Anduin of the House of Wrynn."

As one, the assembled guests turned and bowed before the High King and his son. Anduin was resplendent in a magnificent formal tunic of blue and gold. Varian was slightly more sombre in blue and black, though Khadgar could see a gold lion's head embroidered on his chest. The King also wore the rarely-seen Crown of Stormwind, which shone like a bright halo against his dusky hair. They were a stark contrast, Khadgar mused, the bright, golden prince and his dark, brooding father. Despite their physical differences, however, there was no denying that both Wrynns were singularly impressive men.

"Good evening," Varian boomed, his powerful voice warm. "It is my great pleasure to welcome you all to Stormwind to celebrate the Feast of Winter's Veil. The last year has been hard on the Alliance, and we have lost much. But I am heartened to see you all here, men and women from all corners of Azeroth. It gives me hope. Each Winter's Veil, we celebrate our triumph over the dying of the Light. We celebrate home, and family, and all the things we hold dear. Tonight, I invite you to celebrate, but also to remember what it is that we fight so hard to preserve. For the Alliance!"

The hall erupted in applause for the King, and soon after the excited, eager hum of conversation broke out across the room. Khadgar turned his attention back to Auriana.

"A stirring speech," he remarked.

"Indeed," she murmured, though she was staring down at her chest, instead of up at the High King.

"How do women do this every day?" she muttered, readjusting her bodice with a rather unladylike pull.

"These women might well ask you the same question," Khadgar pointed out. "I'm sure demonslaying would seem just as onerous a task to a noble lady. It's all a matter of perspective."

"Demons are easy," Auriana said vaguely. "People are hard."

Khadgar made no attempt to follow up on her remark, instead choosing to engage her once again with light, idle conversation. They chatted happily for several minutes, until they were politely approached by an elegantly dressed dwarf in flowing white and gold. Khadgar recognised her immediately as Moira Thaurissan, Queen-Regent of Ironforge, and one-third of the Council of Three Hammers. It was somewhat of a surprise to see her in Stormwind, given her initially turbulent claim to the throne. Khadgar knew Varian had once threatened to actually execute the woman, but now it appeared she was welcomed within the Alliance.

"Archmage Khadgar!" she called, in her distinctively dwarven accent. "Varian told me you'd been summoned back from Draenor. I wanted to take the opportunity to meet you for myself."

"Queen-Regent," he said warmly, inclining his head in respect. "The pleasure is all mine."

He placed a hand on Auriana's back and urged her forwards slightly.

"This is my colleague, Commander Auriana Fenwild," Khadgar said, introducing the two women. "Auriana, I don't believe you've met Queen-Regent Moira Thaurissan."

Funnily enough, Moira was almost of a height with Auriana, given the latter's small stature. The dwarf was much bulkier, of course, but she barely had to look up to meet Auriana's eyes.

"A pleasure, Your Majesty," Auriana said, offering the dwarven queen a respectful bow.

"Likewise, Commander," Moira said gracefully, "I've heard from my men on Draenor that you are quite the formidable leader. It's good to see a woman having such success on the field of battle."

"Um… thank you. I do what I can. I'm sure your men are too kind," Auriana said nervously.

"Don't sell yourself short, Commander," Moira said firmly. "There will be enough other people who will try to take your accomplishments away from you, don't do it to yourself."

Khadgar nodded in approval of her words. Apparently, the dwarven queen had matured considerably since taking her rightful seat on the Council of Three Hammers.

"How are you enjoying the evening so far, Moira?" he asked, drawing her attention away from the clearly uncomfortable Auriana.

"I'll give him this, Varian certainly knows how to throw a party," Moira said happily, looking around the room in admiration.

Khadgar belated realised that it must have been the first time Bronzebeard's daughter had attended a Winter's Veil Ball in Stormwind. Perhaps it was even the first time she'd attended a formal social event as a fully endorsed and accepted member of the Alliance. Moira looked out wistfully across the crowd of dancers.

"I actually had an ulterior motive in coming over here," she confessed, almost shyly. "Commander, I don't suppose you'd mind if I stole Khadgar away for a dance?"

"Oh! Not at all, Your Majesty," Auriana said smoothly. "In fact, I'd love to see Khadgar dance. He so rarely gets away from his tower, you see. You'd be doing him a favour."

"It's settled then," Moira exclaimed delightedly, grasping Khadgar's hand firmly and practically dragging him onto the floor.

As Auriana was well aware, Khadgar had two left feet when it came to dancing. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, precisely, but he hadn't been gifted with natural grace or a sense of musical timing. He would have much preferred to engage Moira in a long conversation, but he supposed he couldn't begrudge the determined dwarf queen her fun. He shot Auriana a dirty look over his shoulder as he was led away. She smiled back serenely, her dark blue eyes sparkling with pleasure as she took another sip of wine.


	16. Auriana

After Khadgar had disappeared, Auriana retreated to a quiet corner. Given the excited, girlish glee with which the Queen-Regent had whisked the Archmage away, she knew he would likely be occupied for some time. The only other person she really knew at the event was Varian Wrynn, but there was no way under the Light that she was going to march up to the King and demand his attention at such a public event. Fortunately, she was happy enough alone, without any sort of conversation, and she contented herself with people-watching and a second glass of wine.

Her eyes were drawn to Khadgar as she idly sipped her drink. Despite the curse of age that lay upon him, the Archmage was still a handsome man. He wasn't any sort of dancer, however, though Moira Thaurissan didn't seem to mind. The dwarven queen was the picture of contentment as she manhandled Khadgar around the floor with surprising vigour. Auriana smothered a smile as she watched, thoroughly enjoying the unexpected show.

As the night wore on, a number of young men approached her, as Moira had Khadgar, in the hope of luring her onto the dance floor. Unfortunately, none of them were in the least bit interesting, and she turned each and every one of them down. Most assumed that she'd simply fall over them at the mere mention of their names or titles, and seemed quite put out at her indifference. Auriana wasn't all that used to the attentions of men, but she wasn't naive enough to fall for the brash bravado of the young lords, either. She had hoped that Khadgar would return to her side to act as a deterrent, but she knew it was wishful thinking. The moment Moira had finished with him, he'd quite literally been pounced upon by a gorgeous draenei, and Auriana strongly suspected she wouldn't see the Archmage again for a long while.

She'd just gotten rid of her most recent would-be suitor, when she spotted a lanky blonde nobleman out of the corner of her eye. He was moving unobtrusively but determinedly towards her, and Auriana had no wish to argue with yet another hopeful courtier. She turned her head away pointedly, refusing to even look at him, in the hope that he'd give up and leave her in peace. Unfortunately, this particular young man didn't seem to be able to take a hint, and soon he was standing so close she could actually hear him breathing. Utterly fed up, Auriana rolled her eyes in frustration and whirled to face him. She'd barely opened her mouth to give the not-so-subtle young noble a piece of her mind, when she reeled in shock as she recognised the Crown Prince of Stormwind, Anduin Wrynn.

"Highness!" she said quickly, awkwardly shifting her aggressive posture into something that almost resembled a bow.

"Hello," the prince said slowly. "Um… might I ask why you were glaring at me so terribly just now?"

Auriana blinked stupidly, trying to think of some sort of clever lie, when she realised there was probably no point.

"I thought... actually, I thought you were some presumptuous lordling who wanted to flirt with me," she told him truthfully, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"Have no fear, I only wanted to talk to you, if that's alright," Anduin said, his eyes sparkling with similar mirth. "Though if your intention is to avoid boorish young men, I would suggest you find a better hiding place than behind the alcohol."

"I'm not hiding," she said peevishly, and then remembered who she was talking to. "Er… sorry, Your Highness. I... should introduce myself. My name is Auriana Fenwild."

"Oh, I know who you are, Commander. We've met before, have we not?" Anduin asked, examining her carefully. "In Pandaria, I think…"

"I was one of those dispatched to find you after the Vanguard was shipwrecked, your Highness," she replied. "We've spoken several times, albeit briefly."

"Ah, yes, I remember. Uh… sorry about that mind control, by the way," the young Prince said, looking somewhat abashed. "You understand it was necessary, of course."

"Well, perhaps from your point of view," Auriana said carefully. "You lead us on a great chase, my Prince."

"Please, it's Anduin," he said, correcting her with a wave of his hand. "I wasn't displeased to see you, mind, there were simply more important things to be done than to play the good little prince. Besides, I knew you'd follow me if I were to get in any trouble."

Traipsing through the Jade Forest after the wayward Prince hadn't been one of the most gratifying experiences Auriana had ever had, but she could appreciate his reasoning.

"It's my honour to protect you," she said diplomatically.

"Light, you're stuffy, aren't you? Stop it," Anduin ordered her, though there was a playful lightness to his tone.

"As you wish, my Lord," she said, giving him a somewhat sarcastic bow before she'd really thought about what she was doing.

Anduin fell silent, and Auriana bit her lip nervously. Although she'd become good friends with the boy's father, she'd never had cause to engage in casual conversation with the prince, and she had no idea where she stood with him. For a second, she thought she'd crossed the line with her mild insolence, until she saw the barely controlled grin on the Prince's face. She relaxed slightly, realising that he genuinely wanted to talk to her person to person, rather than as prince and subject.

"Better," Anduin said warmly, confirming her assessment of the situation. "Much better. What have you been up to since the Pandaren campaign?"

Auriana had no desire to converse about the events of Theramore or the downfall of Orgrimmar, and so she went straight into a discussion of the assault on Draenor.

"I was a member of the Iron Vanguard, serving directly under Khadgar, and was one of the first through the portal into Draenor. I'm now garrison commander at Lunarfall, and have been working with Khadgar to hunt down Gul'Dan, and push back the Iron Horde where we can," she explained.

"You're an accomplished soldier for one so young," Anduin mused, as if he weren't barely an adult himself. "Have you had any luck hunting down Garrosh Hellscream?"

"None yet," Auriana said darkly. "We know where he is, but we need to move more troops and supplies into Nagrand if we are to successfully assault his fortress. It's slow going. The Iron Horde are fairly well entrenched."

"I see. Well, I have no doubt you'll find him eventually," Anduin said kindly. "I had also heard that on your off days, you enjoy saving my father's life."

Auriana barked a laugh at his phrasing.

"I didn't know he'd told you the details of our little adventure," she said honestly. "I wouldn't say it was… enjoyable."

"Well, he is a difficult man to get along with," Anduin teased. "It can't have been that bad, though, you two seem to have developed something of a friendship."

"I will admit, the King was not… who or what I expected. I never would have dreamed of striking up a friendship with him, but… well, here we are. I could've done without the broken leg, mind you."

"Interesting. And has my father taken you to his bed?" Anduin asked calmly, taking a sip of his drink as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.

"What?" she stammered, thoroughly flustered at both the question and the abrupt change of topic. "Your Highness!"

"It's a reasonable question. You do spend a lot of time together, and I know he thinks highly of you," Anduin said, his face impassive.

Auriana suddenly found her shoes very interesting, as she ducked her head to avoid meeting the prince's gaze.

"I… um… uh…" she stammered, trying to collect her thoughts. "Anduin, until just a few weeks ago, I couldn't even be in the same room as him without wanting to rip his head off."

"Ah, well, that feeling never really goes away," Anduin said slyly. "But you haven't answered my question."

"No," she said firmly. "Unequivocally, absolutely no."

"Very well," he said, regarding her intently. "I apologise, I've made you uncomfortable."

"Not at all, Your Highness," she said smoothly, falling back on formality, though they both knew she was lying.

An awkward silence followed. Desperate for something to do, Auriana took a long draw from her drink and nearly choked. Anduin slapped her hard on the back in sympathy.

"Er… thank you," she said finally, sucking down desperate gasps of oxygen.

She looked at the young prince thoughtfully.

"How old are you? I feel you're a bit too young to be asking questions about your father's romantic pursuits. Which, if you'll recall, do not include me."

Anduin laughed; a bright, warm sound that Auriana found intensely likeable, despite his utter lack of tact.

"Not as young as you might think. I've had to grow up very quickly," he reminded her.

Looking into his eyes, Auriana had to agree. Anduin may have looked like a young man, but he had an undeniable seriousness and wisdom about him.

"Besides which," Anduin continued, "I'm not all that much younger than you are."

"I'd have to be at least ten years older than you," Auriana pointed out. "Chronologically, in any case. We can debate maturity, if you'd like."

Anduin laughed again.

"I can see why he likes you," he said, grinning broadly.

Auriana flushed, unsure how to respond to the unexpected compliment.

"Why did you think I was… romantically involved... with your father?" she asked finally, genuinely curious.

"Simply a palace rumour. I can't abide gossips and false information, so I thought I'd ask you directly."

"I'm not sure how I feel about being the subject of palace gossip," Auriana said nervously.

Even as she spoke, she felt a thousand eyes on her back, and she shuffled uncomfortably.

"Unfortunately, it's inevitable," Anduin said grimly. "You can't breathe around here without someone reading something into it, particularly where my father is concerned. Ever since my mother passed, the noble Houses have been all over him to take another Queen - and of course, all their daughters are just perfect for him."

Auriana looked across the ballroom towards the elder Wrynn, who stood deep in conversation with a number of elegantly dressed Night Elves. He was easy to recognise, standing a head above nearly everyone else in the room, and his crown practically glowed in the soft candlelight.

"That must be difficult," she murmured softly, newly sympathetic towards her King.

Anduin shrugged.

"I don't think he lets it bother him. Most of the noble families dislike him, at least a little bit, for his utter unwillingness to play House politics. He just does what he wants. They find him entirely bull-headed, but his position is far too strong for any of them to challenge the way he does things."

"And I'm suddenly a factor, because they assume your father's interest in me is… not entirely platonic," she said, shaking her head in rueful realisation. "I'm too used to life out in the field, it never even occurred to me that people would view our friendship that way."

Anduin nodded.

"Hence my question," he said. "I do apologise if I seemed rude, but he is the King, and more than that, he's my father. If you have designs on him, or the throne, I consider it my business to know."

"I understand," she said lightly, and meant it, though at the same time she was somewhat offended that he could suspect such a thing of her.

Anduin must have noticed her consternation.

"I should explain," he added quickly. "I'm not necessarily opposed to my father taking another wife, it's just... he barely survived the loss of my mother. I can't stand to watch him suffer another broken heart. Or worse, be used for what he is, rather than appreciated for who he is. I won't deny he has his flaws - Light, I know that better than almost anyone - but at the very core he is a good man."

The young prince looked suddenly sad, and Auriana was strongly reminded that the elder Wrynn was not the only one who had suffered from the death of Tiffin Ellerian.

"He's lucky to have a son who cares so much," Auriana said tentatively, reaching out to squeeze Anduin's arm gently.

It appeared to have been the right thing to do, for the prince looked down at her gratefully.

"It's a shame you aren't interested in him, you know," Anduin said. "You seem to be a decent woman."

"Um… thank you," Auriana said, blushing lightly. "As I said earlier, it simply… never occurred to me…"

She trailed off as her eyes fell upon the King once more. The Night Elves had moved on, and Wrynn now conversed with a slender, redheaded girl who had apparently been foisted upon him by an older woman who shared something of the young girl's features.

He was handsome, Auriana supposed, considering the King seriously. Certainly his height and his build were both impressive. He had intense, penetrating eyes that she found immensely attractive, despite his scars, and she had to admit he had well-formed features. She typically preferred shorter hair on a man, but in his case she felt she it was fitting. Taken together, she supposed she could appreciate that he was a good looking man. Objectively speaking, of course.

Auriana only realised she was staring when Wrynn suddenly caught her eye from way across the room, and offered her a very small smile. She looked away quickly, only to find Anduin staring at her far too thoughtfully.

"Don't look at me like that," she told him sternly.

"Why?"

"You look like you're reading my mind," she told him.

"Perhaps I am," Anduin said mysteriously.

"I don't believe your powers are that advanced, my Prince," Auriana retorted, smiling. "Or at least, I hope not."

"Well, not yet…" Anduin said, smirking playfully.

"I have no doubt you'll one day surpass all of us in power, Anduin," she said sincerely.

Anduin smiled at the compliment, though he looked slightly uneasy at the thought. The prince opened his mouth to say something further, when their conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by none other than Wrynn himself.

"I hope my son has not been bothering you overmuch, Commander," the King said formally, though there was a hint of light teasing in his tone.

"Oh please, Father," Anduin chimed in, "If she can put up with you, she can certainly tolerate me for a few minutes."

Auriana hid a smile behind her hand. Wrynn looked stern, but she could see the deep affection sparkling in his eyes. She knew from their conversations that his relationship with Anduin had not been characterised by any sort of easy companionship, so it was a pleasant opportunity to observe a glimpse of genuine camaraderie between them.

"I assure you, my Lord, he has been a perfect gentleman," Auriana said, joining in their banter. "I would expect nothing less from a son of yours."

"Then you don't know my father very well," Anduin said dryly.

Auriana snorted. Wrynn cleared his throat.

"Commander… I was hoping you might agree to dance with me?" he said, his eyes intense.

"You dance?" she blurted, genuinely surprised.

Wrynn knitted his eyebrows in disbelief.

"You may not have noticed, but I am the King of Stormwind. I'm not entirely uneducated in courtly manners."

"So that's where I know you from," she replied archly, returning his sarcasm with her own.

Auriana certainly hadn't intended to dance with anyone during the ball, but there was something in Wrynn's quiet request that she couldn't refuse. She turned back to Anduin and offered him a flawless curtsey.

"Your Highness," she said formally.

"Commander," the prince replied, smirking.

"Lead on, Your Majesty," she said loftily, accepting Wrynn's proffered arm with as much dignified hauteur as she could muster.


	17. Varian

Varian swept Auriana onto the dance floor, with a gallant flourish that made her smile. While dancing was not his favourite pastime, he was nonetheless highly skilled. His mother had been adamant that any son of hers would be a well-rounded gentleman, and had insisted that he learn. After the fall of Stormwind, Anduin Lothar had then taken over much of his education in courtly manners. As a boy, Varian had found dance lessons exceedingly dull, until Lothar had pointed out the similarity between fighting and dancing. A good fighter was fast, flexible and graceful - all qualities one could learn through dancing. While he'd never developed a true love of the art, his enthusiasm had been significantly increased by the possibility of adding to his fighting skills. His teenage self had also been considerably more excited by the prospect of dancing when he had realised that it also meant the company of pretty girls.

On the topic of pretty girls... he had to confess, Auriana looked undeniably stunning this evening. Not that he'd ever found her unattractive, of course, but there was a lot to be said for a low neckline and a cinched waist. It was easy to forget that she was an attractive young woman, sometimes. He tended to look at her as another one of his soldiers, though admittedly none of the men he'd ever commanded would have filled out a ball gown quite so well.

"That's a lovely dress," he said sincerely.

"Er… thank you," she said hesitantly. "It was my mother's. One of the few she kept when we fled to Theramore, and one of the only things of hers I have left. She gave it to me when I went to Dalaran, just in case I'd ever need it."

She looked wistfully about the room. The candlelight gave her soft skin an otherworldly glow, and her fathomless eyes looked bluer than he'd ever seen them.

"She would have loved this," Auriana sighed softly. "My mother didn't care a whit for power or politics, but she adored the grandeur and the spectacle that came with being noble."

"And you? How do you find it?" Varian asked, not wanting her to dwell on sad thoughts of her late mother.

He was well aware that a ball was probably not the little mage's first choice for entertainment, but it was very important to him that she enjoyed herself. After all, she'd only attended at his request.

"It's not... awful," she conceded shyly. "Admittedly, I've had  _quite_ a few glasses of wine at this point."

"I know," Varian observed. "Your nose is all pink."

She flushed in embarrassment and ducked her head, but he could see that she was still smiling. The orchestra took up a lively, traditional Stormwind quickstep, and Varian placed one hand tentatively on her shoulder blade. It was easy to forgot how small she was, especially as he mostly saw her in full armour, but he was starkly reminded when most of her back disappeared in his large palm. He gathered her right hand with his left, and was surprised to feel that she was trembling slightly.

He supposed that she must be nervous about dancing, and thought it likely that she'd never attended a ball before. He had no wish to confuse or intimidate her, and instead resolved to keep their dance simple. Together, they moved into a basic step, and Varian soon deduced that he had erred in assuming that she couldn't dance. She felt the like the wind in his arms, and she followed his every lead flawlessly. She smirked up at him, a gleam of challenge in her eyes, and he realised she'd caught his mistake.

"So... I take it you know how to dance, then," he observed, somewhat chagrined. "Did your mother teach you?"

"It was my father, actually," she explained, her eyes lighting up. "He  _loved_  to dance. He used to say that dancing was one of the best things we do. He thought you could live an entire human lifetime in a single dance, if it was the right dance."

"I'm not really one for dancing, but I suppose I can appreciate his philosophy," Varian said. "Evidently, it worked out well for him - didn't you say he met your mother at a ball?"

"He did," she replied.

Her cheeks were lightly flushed from the exertion of dancing, and her eyes sparkled with pleasure. For an all too brief moment, Varian was afforded a rare glimpse of a bright young woman, instead of the battle hardened commander that he usually saw.

"I think that's why he taught me," she elaborated. "For him, a single dance changed the course of his life. I think he thought that if I knew how to dance, I might be as in lucky in love as he was with my mother."

"You never know," Varian said thoughtfully, "He might yet be right."

"Well, thus far my love life has been... largely underwhelming," she said sardonically, pulling a face.

Varian chuckled drily at her self-deprecating expression, and she grinned impishly back.

"I would've liked to meet your father," he said sincerely. "He sounds like an interesting man."

"'Heart of a pirate, soul of a poet', as my mother used to say," she said, rarely heard affection warming her voice.

The music suddenly surged dramatically. Varian took the opportunity to lead Auriana into a series of fast spins, and she gasped in delight at the sudden action. Encouraged by her response, Varian twirled her once again, and was amply rewarded by her dazzling, breathless smile. For a handful of minutes, Varian lost himself in the pleasure of dancing with her. Not because of the dance itself, but because it was the first time he thought he'd ever seen her smile with genuine joy. Her earlier edginess had all but vanished, and she surrendered willingly to his lead.

All too soon, however, the song ended in a magnificent crescendo, and Varian reluctantly lowered her into an elegant dip.

"Another?" he asked eagerly, as he returned her to her feet.

Auriana hesitated for a brief second, and it seemed that she suddenly remembered where they were. He saw her jawline tense, and she looked nervously about the room. The wild joy faded from her face as quickly as it had arisen, and he realised she might refuse him.

"Please," he said quietly, his voice low and serious.

He vaguely realised he hadn't let go of her hand.

The orchestra began a slow, gentle song, and all around the room couples moved into close embraces. Auriana looked up apprehensively, her eyes impossibly wide and blue, but nevertheless she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Not one to ask twice, Varian drew her in gently until they stood chest to chest. Up this close, he could actually feel her heart fluttering like a caged bird against his breast.

_Light, she's tiny,_ he thought in amazement, as he lead her into a unhurried and deliberate sequence of movements.

She was practically swallowed up by the breadth of his shoulders, and she seemed especially fragile when compared to his far greater bulk. Her skin was cool and soft beneath his hands, and her hair smelled distinctly of peacebloom and twilight jasmine. As they fell into the dance, she neither looked up at him nor smiled, but he was keenly aware of a raw and restless energy between them.

Several minutes passed, and he'd just given up hope of ever drawing her out of her shell again, when she finally lifted her gaze and fixed him with a penetrating stare.

"Varian…" she started, only to fall abruptly silent as the music ceased.

Varian swore silently. Auriana stepped back as if suddenly stung, and the spell of their dance was broken. Her face was an expressionless mask once more, and she seemed to be looking at everyone and everything that  _wasn't_  him. As they stood in awkward silence, the crowd broke into polite applause for the orchestra.

"You were saying?" he asked quietly, futilely hoping that she would finish her thought.

"It's… nothing," she stammered, looking down at her feet. "I'm sorry, I really… I… I should go. Thank you for the dance, my Lord."

She bowed respectfully, not a hair more or less than was appropriate from a commander to a king, and turned away from him in a flourish of skirts. Varian watched her practically flee for the grand staircase. Small as she was, she was soon swallowed up by the milling crowd, and as he stared after her in utter bewilderment, it was almost as if she'd never danced with him at all.


	18. Auriana

Auriana didn't really know why she'd left the ballroom in such a hurry, but she had suddenly felt as if she wasn't getting entirely enough air. Dancing with Wrynn had proven entirely too complicated, what with the warmth of his hands, his masterful lead, and the way he'd looked at her… She blinked rapidly as she practically fled through the Keep, struggling to get her breathing under control. Against all her principles and expectations, she had completely and utterly lost herself in the dance. Auriana wasn't one to let go,  _ever_ , but Wrynn had a way of getting under her skin, and worst of all, he'd now done so in front of the entire court of Stormwind.

With her head a mess of conflicting thoughts, Auriana soon found herself thoroughly lost in the dimly lit corridors. Her visits to Stormwind Keep had largely been restricted to the throne room, war room, or Wrynn's chambers, and she'd never really explored the winding halls unescorted. Frustrated, she eventually gave up and simply pressed her head back against the cool stone wall and closed her eyes.

When she finally opened them once more, Auriana was surprised to find herself standing across from a portrait of Tiffin Ellerian, of all people. The painter had done a magnificent job. Tiffin looked almost alive, radiating a serene and benevolent beauty down on all who looked upon her. Subconsciously, Auriana found herself comparing to the golden-haired queen, as she self-consciously tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Tiffin was tall and slender, with a willowy elegance that Auriana sincerely envied. Auriana herself was tiny, though powerfully built through years of hard training. Tiffin's face was long and perfectly featured, and Auriana could see the echo of her only son in her features. Against Tiffin's impossible beauty, Auriana felt even more awkward and ungainly than she usually did.

_Cheekbones too strong, lips too thin, skin too pale, eyes too big_ , she thought idly, counting down her flaws.

Worst of all, she resented Tiffin's flawless complexion. Auriana usually didn't think much on her battle scars, but faced with the flawless honey gold of the queen's skin, she felt small and tarnished.

She sighed, pressing her face into her hands. It was a pointless line of thought, of course, as she had no reason to compare herself to the late queen. That said, she wasn't sure she wanted to stand here staring up at the painting all night. She looked left down the corridor, and caught a glimpse of what she thought might have been moonlight. Lacking any better options, she strode down the corridor in the hope that she might end up somewhere she that she recognised.

Auriana soon felt the crisp bite of fresh air upon her skin, and realised that she was near the Keep's small open garden, outside the Stormwind library. The moon was huge tonight, and it bathed the gardens in a resplendent, silvery light. She walked to the far edge of the garden, overlooking the lake, and leant wistfully up against one of the stone pylons. If she hadn't been wearing a dress, she might've perched on the edge of the stone wall and swung her legs out into the cool air, but she suspected that if she sat down she'd never be able to get up again.

She didn't know how long she stood there, lost in her thoughts, until she heard a quiet noise from behind her. She whirled, instantly alert. Without even realising what she was doing, she began to call frost to her fingertips, until she saw Varian Wrynn step out from the shadows. She quickly released her power, embarrassed by her edginess, and fervently hoped he hadn't noticed.

"I thought you'd left," Wrynn said softly. "I was beginning to think that my dancing had frightened you away."

"Not at all," she assured him, her heart pounding. "You were true to your word - you are a skilled dancer. I just needed some space and fresh air."

She could see his frown, even in the darkness, and she was worried she'd offended him when she'd left the ballroom in such a hurry.

"I see," he said flatly. "I could leave you alone, if you prefer..."

"No, please. Stay," she said sincerely, suddenly realising that she didn't want him to go.

He moved to stand formally beside her, looking intently over the moonlit lake. He looked regal and lordly, and there was a sudden, keen intensity about him that she hadn't noticed before. For a long moment neither of them spoke. The quiet night was broken only be the sound of their soft breathing, and the occasional, distant hoot of an owl. A light snow had begun to fall, showering her hair in tiny snowflakes.

Auriana shivered.

"I'm sorry," Wrynn said, "You must be freezing."

He unclasped the rich blue cloak from around his shoulders and gently placed it over her own. His large hands lingered briefly on her bare skin. They felt hot, in stark contrast to the cool air that nipped at her cheeks. Auriana shivered again, but this time not from the cold.

"Ball gowns aren't really made for warmth," she agreed carefully, "Nor comfort."

"They look beautiful, however," he said.

Auriana studied him carefully as they lapsed back into silence. Had he meant that the dress was beautiful, or that she looked beautiful in it? It was hard to read his face, half swathed in shadow and lit only by moonlight. Auriana went to dismiss the thought, when Wrynn suddenly looked up and let out a soft harrumph of surprise.

"Mistletoe," she whispered, following his gaze.

"If a young woman is caught under mistletoe, custom decrees she must be kissed," Wrynn said slowly.

Auriana's pulse quickened.

_Is he suggesting what I think he's suggesting?_ she wondered.

"I wonder why that is?" she mused out loud, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I mean, what is it supposed to do?"

Wrynn shrugged, his gaze still focused upwards.

"I've no idea. Perhaps it is intended to bestow luck, or fertility, or joy?" he suggested. "Customs are usually intended to secure some kind of good fortune. Anduin Lothar explained it to me once, when I was younger, but I'll admit I didn't listen much beyond an excuse to kiss pretty girls."

Auriana nodded and looked down at her hands. Wrynn abruptly turned towards her, his face intense.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to sound forward," he said.

For a few moments they simply stared at one another. Auriana found him utterly inscrutable, no matter how hard she looked for his intent. Her ears felt suddenly hot.

Wrynn let out a long, shaky sigh.

"Unless, of course..." he started tentatively.

"It is a Winter's Veil tradition," she found herself saying, her voice barely a whisper.

The air around them felt suddenly charged. She swallowed nervously. There was a hot pit of fire curling deep in her belly, and her toes felt strangely numb. It was an alien feeling, and not one she'd felt since Darion...

"Tradition is important," Wrynn agreed.

She'd never heard his voice so low and throaty, and she felt as if she were now being addressed by the wild wolf instead of the man.

Ever so slowly, almost shyly, Wrynn closed the distance between them. Standing scant inches apart, he absolutely towered above her. She wondered if she'd ever truly appreciated how broad he was, or how muscular. Her mind went completely blank as the King gently slid two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards him. He paused, as if daring her to object, before lowering his lips to hers with an aching finalty.

Auriana was not entirely inexperienced with men, but she could safely say she'd never been kissed  _quite_ like that. Wrynn kissed her softly, almost fearfully, but the heat of him was overwhelming. Auriana could feel her toes curling in her silk slippers, and her heartbeat thundered wildly in her ears.

He broke away after only a few seconds, but to her it had seemed like an eternity. From looking at his shadowed features, she would have believed him entirely unmoved by their embrace, save for a long, shuddering breath as he moved away.

"Happy Winter's Veil, my lady," he murmured.

"And... and to you, my Lord," she managed, trying desperately to reassert control over her scrambled thoughts.

Another long silence stretched between them.

"I've bothered you long enough," Wrynn said finally. "Forgive me... and enjoy the rest of your night."

With a perfectly controlled bow he faded away once more into the shadows, leaving her with naught but the chill wind and the heated echo of his kiss.


	19. Varian

Varian headed back into the Keep proper, breathing heavily. Mostly by accident, he ended up in the deserted Stormwind throne room, and collapsed rather haphazardly in the familiar comfort of his stone chair. The room was dimly illuminated by a handful of torches. With most of the castle attending the ball, there was no real need to keep it well lit. Mercifully, the room was also entirely empty. Not a single guard was in sight, which suited Varian perfectly.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. It was an unwelcome sensation for a man who was usually so certain of himself, but he couldn't get Auriana out of his mind. The second his lips had touched hers, it had taken every last bit of self-control he had possessed to pull away. The brief moment played over and over in his mind as he tried not to let his thoughts stray to further possibilities. Despite his best efforts, however, he found himself wondering what would have happened if he'd held her hard against the keep wall, and pressed the length of her body against his own... if he'd kissed her properly, fiercely… if he'd taken her by the hand and led her to his bed...

_Light_ , he'd wanted to. It had been a long time since Varian had known the touch of a woman, and he had thought that any sort of passion he possessed was long since dead and buried. The feeling had come on so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that it still seemed slightly unreal, but the young mage's kiss had awakened a wild and desperate hunger that he hadn't known in years.

He let out a slow breath, trying to control his frantically beating heart. Auriana was uniquely beautiful, but it wasn't something he'd immediately noticed upon their first meeting. Varian had seen her as many things - a subject, a comrade, a soldier, a friend - but tonight was the first time he'd truly seen her as a  _woman_ , and a woman he wanted, at that.

Varian idly wondered if she were still standing where he had left her, under the mistletoe with his cloak about her shoulders and snowflakes in her hair. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to tell whether their embrace had affected her as deeply it had him. For all he knew, she'd simply participated in a friendly kiss out of respect for Winter's Veil tradition, or had politely obliged the whim of her king.

He raked a hand through his hair. He felt like he was sixteen again, floundering to ask a pretty girl to dance. In truth, he had little practice in approaching women. His marriage to Tiffin had been arranged, of course, and beyond that he'd never really had to  _try_. Mostly women had simply thrown themselves at him, though he knew that was largely due to his status as King of Stormwind, rather than any particular magnetism he possessed. Certainly, Auriana had never given any indication that she was interested in him romantically, especially considering how hard he'd had to work to forge even a simple friendship between them. That said, he'd never considered  _her_  in that light before either, but somehow his feelings for the woman had crept up on him. Perhaps he'd closed himself off for protection so well, that he no longer truly knew his own heart...

"Hello?"

A soft voice suddenly shattered the silence, interrupting his confused and rambling thoughts. Varian sat up straighter, recognising the speaker in an instant.

"Anduin?" he called into the darkness.

"Father?" came the answering call, as his son stepped out of the shadows. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Varian started, as he realised that he couldn't really talk to his  _son_  about his current train of thought. "I was just… thinking."

Anduin's clever eyes narrowed as he fixed his father with a penetrating stare. Sometimes, Varian thought the boy really  _could_ read minds.

"You're wanted in the ballroom, but nobody knew where you'd gone," Anduin said slowly. "I came to fetch you."

"Thank you," Varian said, keeping tone carefully neutral. "I'll be along in a moment, I just need a few more minutes, if you don't mind."

"Father… did something happen?" Anduin asked, his blue eyes wide.

Varian offered his son a reassuring smile, both concerned and impressed by the boy's perceptiveness.

"No," he said firmly. "You know how I get with these formal events. I just needed a little space."

Anduin studied him for another long moment, his head tilted thoughtfully to one side. Varian met his gaze, taking the measure of his only child. Anduin had filled out out in the past year, and had grown another inch or two. He'd never have Varian's breadth or heavy muscle, taking after his mother as he did, but he'd definitely be a tall man. Anduin's face had also taken on a recent maturity, and had shed some of its rounded youthfulness in favour of a strong square jaw. That, at least, he'd gotten from his father. Varian supposed he couldn't really consider Anduin a  _boy_  for much longer - whether he was ready or not, his son was well on his way to manhood. Change, it seemed, was inevitable.

Anduin was the first to break their intense eye contact. From all appearances, he seemed to accept Varian's hurried explanation as sufficient.

"As you wish, Father," he said quietly, turning to walk away.

He was halfway out of the room when Varian called out.

"Anduin…" he said softly. "I'm very proud of you."

The prince whirled, startled by the unexpected compliment. Varian could see countless emotions flash across his son's face, but mostly he saw genuine joy. For once, it seemed, he'd said the right thing.

"I know," the young prince said finally, his voice warm but even. "Father… where is this coming from? You're not dying, are you?"

"What? No! Why on earth would you think that?" Varian demanded, genuinely confused. "Do I need to be dying to give you praise?"

Anduin shifted his weight nervously.

"Er… no, of course not," he said edgily. "You're just not usually this... um...  _circumspect._ I just... wondered…"

Varian snorted at Anduin's faltering attempt at tact, though he knew it was a fair observation. He wasn't usually one for heavy reflection, but tonight he felt undeniably contemplative.

_Perhaps I'm getting old,_ he thought wryly.

He regarded his son, no longer simply an inquisitive, golden-haired child, but a wise and deserving crown prince. He thought of himself, and of his dogged, ongoing struggle to master his own fear and rage; a battle that he had only recently suspected he might be able to win. Lastly, he thought of Auriana, his brave and brilliant young commander. Once a mere soldier, lately a friend and now, perhaps, something more…

For the first time in a long while, Varian felt as if he were no longer living his life in the past. He looked up at Anduin with a gentle half smile.

"Times change," he said quietly.


	20. Auriana

Auriana didn't dare move after Varian had departed, shaking badly despite the warmth afforded by his cloak.

_Varian_.

The name echoed in her thoughts as she tried to reassert some semblance of control over her trembling hands. She supposed she couldn't very well think of the man as 'His Majesty' or 'Lord Wrynn' anymore, given what had just happened between them.

_As if you actually_ know  _what just happened,_  she thought drolly, biting her lip in consternation.

The cool breeze bit at her exposed skin, but it did nothing to quell the fire burning in her veins. She felt restless, spirited, and more alive than she had in months. Each and every one of her nerves tingled, and her heart beat out a wild staccato against her chest. She took three deep breaths, trying to calm her traitorous body, but it appeared her efforts were in vain.

Her thoughts also raced by at a million miles a minute. Either that kiss had meant nothing, or it had meant everything, and she couldn't quite figure out which was the more terrifying.

_Should I go after him_? she wondered, only to dismiss the thought as quickly as it had arisen.

It was reasonable to assume that if he had meant something by it, he would have stayed. Varian had never struck her as an indecisive man. She suspected that he would pursue anything he wanted with nothing less than single-minded determination. With that thought in mind, his absence seemed telling. And yet… he  _had_ kissed her, and rather impressively at that. Mistletoe had ever been a flimsy excuse to kiss someone, and she very much doubted he'd summoned such burning passion over a simple  _tradition._

Her warring thoughts were interrupted by a sudden movement in the corner of her eye. For an all too brief moment, she thought the king had returned to her, and her heart gave an unexpected leap at the thought. She turned slowly, only to have her hopes fall a second later as a shorter man that she didn't recognise stepped out of the shadows. She nodded to the man in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the sudden rush of disappointment spreading through her chest.

"The view is certainly beautiful this evening," the man remarked, in a clipped, dignified accent.

"Er… yes. You're welcome to it, actually, I was just leaving," she mumbled shyly, turning to depart.

"Auriana, isn't it?" he said suddenly, and she paused, surprised that he knew her name.

He strode forwards to greet her. He was an older man, with greying hair and sharp, clever eyes. He was immaculately dressed in a formal maroon suit, and a galaxy of jewels glittered on his long fingers. He was smiling at her, but something about his presence was thoroughly unnerving. Auriana's instincts had been honed over many years of battle experience, and right now, they were telling her that something was  _wrong._

"Rohas Anguile," he said, by way of introduction, as he offered her his hand. " _Lord_  Anguile, actually. I'm a member of the House of Nobles."

"Um… Auriana Fenwild," she replied stiffly, shaking his hand firmly. "Commander of Lunarfall Garrison."

"Oh, I know who you are," Anguile said. "Stormwind is very grateful for your efforts in Draenor. I had heard that you're quite the warrior. Very impressive, for someone so young. And a woman, at that."

Auriana frowned, looking over his shoulder for the exit. She wasn't in the mood for conversation, and she really didn't like how much this man seemed to know about her, nor his superior attitude.

"I'm grateful for your interest, my Lord," she said carefully, "But I need to be back in Draenor before I retire…"

"Word around the palace is you've become close friends with the King," Anguile continued, as if he hadn't heard her.

Auriana went very still, suddenly suspecting that this chance meeting hadn't been down to chance at all. Anguile's voice was light and confident, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I saved his life, in Tanaan Jungle," she explained slowly. "We've spoken several times since then. I... would consider him a friend, yes."

"I see," Anguile said calmly. "Varian's a good man, and he's fine company, but he's also the King of Stormwind. A friendship with him is not a simple matter."

"Respectfully, my Lord, my friendship with Varian is none of your business," she said warily, though she let a sharp edge creep into to her voice.

"Except that simply isn't true," Anguile accused, finally speaking to her directly. "The King might not see through you, but I… well, I've played House politics long enough to know better. What is it, girl… being a garrison commander was no longer enough, and you've set your eyes on a greater prize? Now you fancy yourself as the next Queen of Stormwind?"

" _What_?" she demanded, disbelieving. "Varian is my  _friend_. That's all there is to it."

"Tell me then," Anguile said, stepping in uncomfortably close. "Why were you out in the garden with him tonight?"

Auriana froze. Her skin went ice cold at the realisation that she had been watched. How much had Anguile seen?

"Now,  _I_  could be convinced that your friendship with Varian is… platonic," he continued softly. "You're a war hero, and you seem an honest woman... but others might not believe your motives to be so innocent. Thrones are a funny thing. People will do all sorts of things to ensure that only the  _right_  people sit upon them. In the best interests of Stormwind, of course."

_Am… am I being threatened?_  she wondered, and with a growing anger, she realised that that was exactly Anguile's intention.

She didn't care who this man was, he had no right to threaten her as he did. She eyed him cautiously, her fury rising in her chest.

"It's cold out tonight," she said icily. "This much frost can be dangerous. You ought to take care not to slip."

As she spoke, she shifted slightly so that she was clearly visible in the moonlight. The movement might have looked idle, but it afforded Anguile a perfect glimpse of the frost that now snaked its way up her arms. It was a small magic, but the effect was rather impressive. It looked like her arms were now encased in glittering ice, and the frost was so cold it let off soft trails of vapor into the air. She was gratified to see Anguile's eyes go wide at her not-so-subtle display of power.

"Are you threatening me, mage?" he demanded, all pretense dropped.

He drew himself up to his full height.

"You threatened me first,  _my Lord_ ," she hissed. "I simply pointed out that it was a bad idea to do so. I'm not some little girl that you can frighten with bold words and ridiculous posturing. I've faced down the Horde, the Lich King, Old Gods, and Death itself. How could you  _possibly_  scare me?"

Anguile looked cowed, but not deterred. He thrust a finger aggressively in her face.

"You'll stay away from Varian Wrynn," he said, "If you know what's good for you".

"I'll do no such thing," she retorted furiously, and moved to push past him into the corridor.

"I've no designs on the throne of Stormwind," she growled as she passed. "Varian and I are friends, nothing more."

"See that it stays that way, girl, and you and I will have no need for further conversation," he snarled after her. "You're playing a far more dangerous game than you know."

"I'm not playing any game at all,  _my Lord_ ," she snapped. "I'm leaving now.  _Don't_ follow me."

Wisely, Anguile heeded her words, and allowed her to stalk away without further comment.

* * *

Auriana made her way to a quiet area of the castle, and summoned a portal back to Lunarfall. She could feel her fury surging through her veins, and she fought to keep it under control as she vanished in a burst of power.

She reappeared in the centre of the garrison. At this late hour, only the night watch were awake. Her arrival was spied by an older sergeant, who lifted his hand in welcome. She returned the greeting halfheartedly, turning away quickly lest he see the look on her face. She quivered with excess adrenaline, both from the anger surging in her veins, and the not-yet-forgotten power of Varian's kiss.

She swept up the stairs towards her quarters, when she practically collided with Lieutenant Thorn, who had been skulking about in the shadows.

"Thorn!" Auriana exclaimed, startled. "I didn't think you were on watch this evening?"

"Er… I'm not," Thorn said evasively. "I… er… I was waiting up for you, Commander."

"That's very kind, Thorn, but you needn't have bothered," Auriana said, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

"How was the ball, Commander?"

_Where do I even start?_  Auriana thought to herself.

"It was… fine," she said out loud. "Very beautiful, as you said. I'm very tired, however. I don't mean to be rude, but I really would like to go to sleep."

"Of course," Thorn said smoothly, stepping back. "I'll see you in the morning, Commander."

The worgen woman turned to walk away, when Auriana had a sudden thought.

"Thorn…" she said abruptly. "Just a quick question, if you wouldn't mind."

Thorn stopped, and cocked her head curiously.

"Before this mission, you spent time a good deal of time in Stormwind as part of Genn Greymane's guard, correct?" Auriana asked. "What do you know of a man named Rohas Anguile?"

Thorn's face twisted into a silent snarl, but when she spoke, her voice was civil and professional.

"He's a leading member of the House of Nobles," she said. "Very influential, very powerful. There are few people in Stormwind who hold more sway over the politics of the kingdom."

"I see… and what do you think of him personally?"

Thorn shuffled uncomfortably.

"Permission to speak freely, Commander?"

"Of course," Auriana said, waving her hand.

"He's a snake," Thorn said flatly. "Forgive me, Commander, but I wouldn't trust that man as far as I could throw him. Most people wouldn't notice, because he's all smiles and charm on the surface. But I'm worgen, and he smells… wrong."

"Thank you for your opinion, Thorn," Auriana said thoughtfully.

"Is there trouble, ma'am?" Thorn asked, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.

"No," Auriana said, trying to convince herself as much as Thorn. "No trouble at all. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Auriana turned to leave, when another thought struck her. She wasn't one for having personal conversations with her subordinates, but she keenly felt the lack of an outlet for her churning thoughts.

"Thorn… one more thing," she said. "Have you ever looked at someone, and felt that you knew them… and then one day, you look at them again, and somehow they aren't at all what you thought they were? Is that... even possible, do you think?"

Thorn shifted her weight restlessly as she seriously considering the question.

"Yes," she said finally. "At least, I'd hope so."

"Why?" Auriana asked.

"Because it means that people can change," she said simply. "It means that someone can look at an enemy, and one day see a friend."

Auriana nodded, impressed by the lieutenant's reply.

"Very wise, Thorn," she said.

"Er… are you speaking of anyone in particular, Commander?"

It was then that Auriana noticed that the worgen woman was quite nervous, and was making a poor attempt to conceal a single red rose behind her back. Lost in her own thoughts, Auriana hadn't even noticed. She smiled.

"No. It was just… a thought. Goodnight, Lieutenant."

"Goodnight, Commander."


	21. Varian

The morning after the ball, Varian awoke to discover his chamberlain, Falster, standing outside his door with a large package in hand. Varian opened it curiously to find the blue cloak he'd given to Auriana the previous night, as well as two handwritten notes. The first was a formal request for a meeting with Varian to discuss the future of the Draenor campaign, signed by Auriana in her capacity as garrison commander. The second was a more personal message, which simply read:

_Varian -_

_Thank you. Against expectations, I had a wonderful night._

In response to her formal request, he ordered his chamberlain to draft an official letter, summoning her to Stormwind in a week's time. He also had Falster write missives to members of the House of Nobles, inviting them to attend the meeting.

Her personal message, however, was not so easily dealt with. After Falster left, Varian paced about his chambers, practically shaking with restless energy. He had dreamed of Auriana last night, of course, and each dream had ended with her inevitably tangled in his passionate embrace. Unfortunately, it seemed that  _her_  feelings were not so clear. He frowned as he tucked the second note into his pocket, wondering what it meant. Had Auriana been referring to the ball itself as 'wonderful', or their kiss? Not for the first time, he cursed her tendency to avoid any open display of emotion.

_Not that you can really criticize other people for that…_  he thought wryly.

He had held out hope that she would come to him in the evening, as she usually did, but it was to no avail. There was no quiet knock at the door that night, nor any of the nights that followed. In fact, he didn't hear from her for an entire week, save for a formal acknowledgment of his summons. She hadn't been so absent since their friendship had begun, and Varian began to fear that he'd scared her off for good. Furious with himself for having taken such a risk, it was with some trepidation that he anticipated her eventual arrival in Stormwind.

* * *

The morning of their tactical meeting, Varian donned his formal armour, and made his way to his private war room to await Auriana and a number of nobles. As luck would have it, Auriana was the first to arrive. Evidently, she'd understood the importance of appearances when dealing with the noble Houses, and had dressed to impress. She looked both regal and warlike, in a dark red dress complimented by heavy golden shoulderplates. Tight bands of gold also encircled her throat, wrists, and the crook of her arms, and she wore an ornate dagger on her belt. Varian felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her, despite his best efforts to maintain an air of indifference.

"Auriana," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Varian," she replied, with a hesitant smile.

She walked slowly into the room, looking everywhere but at his face.

"We're alone," she said, a slight catch in her voice.

"Yes. The others will be along in a moment, however, you needn't worry about it," he said, trying not to let a hint of reproach enter his tone.

"I'm sorry?" she said lightly.

"You haven't been back to Stormwind lately," he observed bluntly. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

"Of course not," she murmured, but she didn't meet his eyes. "You know how it is… I've been… busy. I've been fighting in Nagrand nearly every day..."

She trailed off, and nervously touched her upswept hair. Throwing caution to the wind, Varian stepped towards her, reaching out to gently capture her hand as it fell. She stiffened at his touch, and her breathing quickened slightly, but she didn't pull away. She even looked up at him, and her big blue eyes were intense and alive.

"I thought… perhaps after the meeting, we could talk…" he said tentatively, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand.

She swallowed timorously, but offered him a genuine smile.

"I'd like that very much," she said quietly. "Varian…"

She was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door of the war chamber. Varian dropped her hand and stepped back immediately, as a group of four noblemen entered the room.

"Good morning," he said hurriedly. "My lords, I'd like you to meet Auriana Fenwild, Commander of Lunarfall Garrison. Auriana, might I present Barons Rohas Anguile and Aldous Lescovar, Count Remington Ridgewell, and Lord Whitford Astley."

"Thank you for coming, my Lords," Auriana said graciously, offering them a respectful bow. "Lunarfall is grateful for your continued interest in the Draenor campaign."

"I assure you, it's our pleasure," Lescovar said lasciviously, eyeing Auriana with open appreciation. "I can see that Lunarfall... is in good hands."

Varian frowned, swallowing a sudden burst of anger. Lescovar was a boorish cad, though his House was influential. Varian strongly suspected that his attendance at this meeting had a lot more to do with Auriana than any sudden interest in the politics of Stormwind's military. As for the others… Rohas Anguile was very powerful, and was probably the most important man in the room, after Varian himself. Ridgewell was mostly harmless, if a bit pretentious, and Astley was young and eager, having only recently been raised to the high seat of his House.

There were other members of the House of Nobles, of course, but these four men represented some of the more prominent Houses, and had been the only ones available on short notice. Military deployments did not require oversight by the lords of Stormwind,  _per se_ , but given that the noble Houses would have a part to play in providing Stormwind's army with soldiers, supplies, and resources, Varian usually attempted to at least consult them before making any major decisions.

To her credit, Auriana flatly ignored Lescovar's advances, and launched into a briefing about the current state of the Draenor campaign. Varian knew most of this information from the garrison reports, and only listened with half an ear. Instead, he watched Auriana carefully as she spoke. She was sincere, confident and passionate, and she responded to the questions of the noblemen well. With a few more years of command experience under her belt, Varian knew she could be one of the Alliance's more formidable military leaders.

He listened more attentively as she began to detail recent intelligence on Grommashar and Garrosh Hellscream.

"Unfortunately," she was saying, "Lunarfall is rather poorly positioned for an effective assault on Nagrand. Most of our timber and food supply comes through Gorgrond and Talador, and our position in Gorgrond is tenuous at best. We have to ensure the security of our supply lines. There's no point taking Grommashar and losing Shadowmoon and Lunarfall behind us."

"What is it you ask from us, Commander?" Astley asked, his brown eyes keen.

"I need more men, my Lords," she said directly. "With another three battalions, I could ensure that both Gorgrond and Talador are held securely while I launch a decisive attack on Grommashar."

"Would you be able to capture Grommashar without additional troops?" Anguile interjected pointedly.

It was the first time he'd spoken, and he now stared at Auriana like a wolf might look at a stray calf.

"Possibly," Auriana admitted, frowning. "It would be costly, however, and I can't guarantee that the assault would be successful..."

"But possible, yes?" he pressed her.

Auriana gave Varian a slow, inscrutable look, before her eyes flicked back to Anguile.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"Then I'm afraid I don't see the need to commit more troops," Anguile said lightly.

Varian frowned, but didn't intervene. He didn't like Anguile's approach at all, but the man was generally unpleasant to everyone, or at least people he considered beneath him. Auriana was also tough, and Varian knew she wouldn't let the old noble phase her.

"With respect, my Lord..." she started calmly, only to be cut off a second later as Anguile continued.

"Don't get me wrong, we are all very grateful for the effort you and your  _fine_ garrison have put into destroying the Dark Portal and averting another invasion, but the fact remains that this is not our war," he explained. "These soldiers you demand would have to be levied from  _our_  lands. We have our own problems here. While we are not immediately engaged in war, we have to look to the defense of our own borders."

As he spoke, he moved uncomfortably close to Auriana. His quiet voice was smooth as silk.

"Sylvanas will not be content with the north forever, and it remains to be seen whether Vol'jin's Horde will not continue along the same expansionist lines as Hellscream," he said smoothly. "If we commit more troops to your little expedition without first stabilising our own borders, we risk compromising the ongoing security of Stormwind. I'm sure you can appreciate my concerns, Commander."

Varian looked over at Auriana. Her face was an expressionless mask, but he could see fire burning in her eyes. Although his heart agreed with her, he knew Anguile had a reasonable point, and one that the other members of the House of Nobles agreed with. Lescovar and Ridgewell were both nodding, though Astley looked less convinced. They were none of them military men, and didn't really appreciate the true danger posed by the Iron Horde. As far as they understood, the threat had been almost completely contained with the destruction of Dark Portal on Draenor. He saw Auriana prepare to unleash a tirade at Anguile, and decided his intervention was well overdue.

"Stormwind understands your concern, Commander," he said firmly, "But I also agree that the defense of our lands is paramount."

Anguile's face leapt in odd triumph, and he looked expectantly at Varian. The acrid scent of smug victory was all over him.

"However..." Varian said warningly, with a sideways glance at Anguile.

The man deflated somewhat under Varian's stare. If there was one person he still deferred to, it was Varian himself. The House of Nobles had long since learned that Varian could not be pushed around, and he didn't intend to let them forget. They held power, certainly, but Varian was still the supreme authority in Stormwind.

"I propose a compromise," Varian continued. "I agree that we cannot spare three full battalions at this very moment. Our losses after the events in Pandaria and the Siege of Orgrimmar were severe, and we've yet to replenish our border defenses to their full strength. However, Commander Fenwild is correct in her assessment of the importance of the Draenor campaign. We cannot afford another Dark Portal, and I believe that securing key positions on Draenor is the best way to prevent a future invasion. Better that we fight our battles there, than have war ravish our own lands."

He cleared his throat.

"Commander, I will send you back to Draenor with two companies, and I will look into the feasibility of sending you two full battalions in the new year. I will also speak to the other Alliance member nations, as to whether they are able to commit more troops to the war effort."

He saw something dangerous flicker behind Auriana's eyes, but she nodded her acquiescence.

"As always, Lunarfall is grateful for any help Stormwind can provide," she said stiffly.

"It's settled, then," he replied. "Unless there's any other issues that ought to be raised?"

"No, my Lord," Auriana said.

The assembled nobles also shook their heads.

"Very well then," Varian said. "I think we're done here. Thank you for your attention, my Lords, and for all your hard work, Commander. Please don't think that Stormwind undervalues your contribution to our continued prosperity."

Anguile looked carefully between Varian and Auriana, but swept from the room without further comment. The other nobles followed close behind him, offering Varian respectful nods as they departed.

"Commander, a word before you go," he said, as Auriana made to take her leave.

He saw her waver, but she was a good soldier, and she wouldn't refuse a direct command from her King. Certainly not in front of others.

"Of course, my Lord," she said, turning away.

"I know you're angry with me," he started, the moment they were alone.

"I hate when you use your 'king' voice," she muttered.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," she said, busying herself with her papers. "It means… nothing."

"Don't make me order you, Commander," he demanded.

She turned back to face him and rolled her eyes. Varian growled his displeasure, but stayed otherwise silent. From anyone else, he would have unleashed his temper at the insubordination.

"You know exactly what I mean. I thought - I thought you understood what we're up against. I thought you were a soldier," she said hotly.

"I am. And I  _do_  understand. But I also have to think as a King. You're a commander yourself. You know that you sometimes have to make difficult decisions with the resources available to you."

"Those _men_ … they're so petty, and small minded. They don't see the big picture. I thought you did," she said fractiously.

"Politics are more complicated than that," Varian reminded her. "Stormwind has to remain strong, and I can't do that if I have no troops to defend my own borders. More than that, weakening my own garrison strength for the sake of the campaign in Draenor also weakens my position as King."

"Like that's ever stopped you before," she accused. "I know your reputation, Varian. Not even three years ago, you would've been practically throwing troops at me. What happened?"

"I grew up. I learned some harsh lessons about the realities of command. I suggest you do the same, Commander," he said firmly, trying to keep his voice calm.

She turned away from him again, her shoulders knotted with tension. Varian sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He understood her point, and her frustration, but he knew he had to make the decision of a responsible ruler.

"Auriana…" he said placatingly. "Our initial campaign was successful. The Dark Portal was destroyed, we hold Shadowmoon securely, and by your own reports we are well on our way to controlling both the Spires of Arak and Talador as well. I understand that you need more troops, but I won't risk unnecessary losses just to aid in your vendetta against Garrosh."

"My  _vendetta_?" she repeated coldly.

"Come now, Auriana, you  _know_  that's a big part of it," he said warningly. "We both know that Garrosh has to die, but he doesn't have to die tomorrow! You could afford to take your time, to consolidate your position. The only reason you're rushing into this is to slake your own personal lust for vengeance."

Fury flashed across her face, the type of fury he hadn't seen since their meeting in Tanaan Jungle, when he'd first learned of her intense dislike of him. It wasn't a pleasant reminder. Gone was the soft, beautiful young woman he'd kissed barely a week earlier, to be replaced by what could only be described as a force of nature.

"Fine," she snarled. "So what if this is about me and Garrosh? It doesn't make my argument any less valid. And it certainly doesn't mean you have to capitulate to that... man!"

"Unrest among the noble houses can be as dangerous to the stability of a kingdom as all-out war," Varian said sternly. "It's a balancing act, Auriana."

He frowned, and suddenly put two and two together.

"What happened between you and Anguile?" he asked slowly. "He's always been unpleasant, but he's not usually that openly insolent. He seemed to have a particular dislike of you. I wasn't aware that you two had met."

"We hadn't, until a week ago," she said dismissively.

"A week ago… you met him at the ball?" Varian realised.

At the mention of the night of the ball, Auriana flushed, and her ears went bright pink. Some of her earlier anger dissipated, and he could tell she was suddenly embarrassed. She touched a hand to her chest, but she didn't say a word about their kiss. He could feel it hanging between them, the proverbial elekk in the room.

"Anguile and I… we had a little… incident," she said finally, equivocating.

"What?"

"It's nothing," she assured him, but Varian wouldn't be dissuaded.

She sighed.

"He didn't like how close you and I had become, and suspected I might have plans to seduce my way on to the throne, or something. It was ridiculous, really."

"What happened?" Varian pressed, as he felt a furious heat rise in his chest.

"He threatened me, I dealt with it," she said. "I've had no contact with him since, until the meeting today."

"He  _threatened_ you?" Varian asked, far more calmly than he felt.

He was suddenly possessed of a singular desire to give Anguile a thrashing. Varian had never liked the man, and he liked him even less now he knew that he had tried to push Auriana around.

"It wasn't anything specific. He just… firmly suggested… that I should cease my association with you, or face the consequences," she said dismissively.

Varian snarled wordlessly, and strode for the door. The man had no right to interfere in Varian's personal relationships, much less to threaten someone Varian cared about. If Anguile thought he could try to intimidate Auriana without reprisal, then he had another thing coming. Varian would remind the man who truly held power in Stormwind.

"Varian, stop!" she demanded, darting swiftly around to place herself between him and the door. "What are you going to do? Challenge one of the most powerful nobles in your court to a duel? How do you think that works out? If he suspected a relationship between us before, how do you suppose he might feel about you storming out there to defend my honour?"

"I won't have the people I care about disrespected like that," he shouted. " _No one_ threatens you, Auriana,  _no one._ You're mine."

He saw her eyes widen, and her face flushed brilliant red. She had already been angry with him, and now, apparently, she was furious.

"I'm  _yours_?" she said hotly. "I don't belong to anyone, Varian, save myself."

"That's not what I meant," he said, flustered in his anger. "I meant… you're under my protection. I'm the King! Anguile can't just go around threatening my… my friends. No matter who he thinks he is."

"Varian," she said flatly, "I don't need your protection. I handled it. I don't need you charging off like some sort of... deranged white knight. I'm more than capable of fighting my own battles."

Already furious with Anguile, Varian found his rage now turned on Auriana. It was Anduin all over again, but he didn't care. His mind was clouded in a fog of red. Why couldn't people ever see that all he ever did, every action he took, was to keep them safe?

"I'm deranged, am I?" he growled. "Have some care who you speak to,  _Commander_. We may have developed a friendship in the last few months, but I'm still your King, and I  _will_  have your respect."

He stepped towards her angrily, and was well aware he was using his superior height to intimidate her. Auriana didn't back down, staring up at him furiously.  _Light_ , she was  _fierce_. For a long moment, he wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted to cuss her out or kiss her.

"Besides which, you're not as capable as you might think," he continued ruthlessly, "You're a formidable force out there, in a war, but the politics of Stormwind are a different game entirely. Your little outburst not a minute earlier has proven that. You're clever, Auriana, but you're still young and inexperienced. You're woefully unprepared to stand against a man like Anguile."

Her eyes blazed.

"I'm not a fool," she snapped. "Nor I am not some fragile little  _princess_ , Varian."

Anger radiated off her like heat, and he could see her hands trembling.

"That," he said coldly, "Is obvious."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Auriana recoiled as if slapped, hurt flashing across her features. She whirled to leave, and Varian knew he couldn't let her leave him in anger.

"Damnit, Auri!" he growled, and in a pique of frustration, he lunged for her arm.

The moment his fingers found her flesh he knew he'd crossed a line. All the heated anger vanished from her gaze in a moment, only to be replaced by an icy fury that was vastly more terrifying. As she gazed up at him with pitiless eyes, Varian felt the electrifying hum of magic creep up his arm, and he realised that he'd never truly appreciated how dangerous she was.

He let go, and she stalked from the room without so much as a backwards glance.


	22. Auriana

Auriana fled from Varian's war chamber and summoned a portal back to Lunarfall as soon as she was able. In her rage, she put far too much effort into the spell, and reappeared inside her own chambers with a wild surge of power. Arcane energy crackled up the walls as she paced back and forth through the room, trying to slow her thundering heart.

She was breathing heavily, and her blood felt like it was on fire.

_Damn Varian Wrynn,_  she thought.  _Damn him._

Auriana had never met another person who could stir up her emotions quite as much as the King of Stormwind. In the span of a few hours, he'd sent her reeling from shy hope and quickening desire to white hot rage. She could scarcely believe he'd denied her full request for more troops. She hadn't expected any special favours from the King, of course, but she had also thought he would see her argument, both from a military and personal perspective. He knew what bringing Garrosh Hellscream to justice meant to  _her_ , and to the  _Alliance_ , and he had refused her anyway.

Worst of all, she knew he was probably right, though Auriana would've rather faced down the entire Burning Legion herself than admit it. She wasn't the only commander in Stormwind's military, and Varian had to consider more than just the needs of Lunarfall garrison.

In her heart, however, she knew she was also right about Grommashar. Hellscream had to die, and she was determined to be the one to bring him to justice. She stormed downstairs, seeking her second in command.

"Thorn! War room. Now!" she hollered.

She swept into the room with the bewildered Lieutenant close on her heels, and made her way over to the strategic map. Auriana stabbed her finger at a number of garrison holdings in Talador, Shadowmoon Valley and the Spires of Arak as she spoke.

"In your estimation, Lieutenant, how long would it take to recall our troops from these outposts and send them out to Nagrand?"

"I take it the meeting with the King and the House of Nobles didn't go well," Thorn observed calmly.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Auriana said stiffly.

She sighed.

"The King saw fit to allocate two companies," she explained. "They should be here tomorrow, but we won't be getting the full battalions I asked for, at least not until next year. So we'll have to make do with what we've got."

Thorn looked down at the map carefully.

"I'm not in the mood to have to ask questions twice, Lieutenant," Auriana said warningly.

"For a full scale redeployment to Nagrand? Three days, at the least," Thorn reported, shooting Auriana a sideways glance. "You're not seriously considering launching an assault on Grommashar, are you?"

"I came to the same conclusion," Auriana said, ignoring the second part of Thorn's statement. "Starting pulling our men back here, and here. Send word to Vindicator Yrel as well, she should be able to lend us her aid."

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" Thorn said formally.

"What is it, Thorn?"

"Are you sure this is… the most prudent course of action, Commander? While I agree that our current garrison strength is sufficient for an attack on Grommashar, would it not be better to wait until such time as we have access to more troops? To reduce the risk?"

"You saw the saw the intelligence reports, Thorn," Auriana said firmly. "More orcs are flocking to Grommashar by the  _hour_. The longer we wait, the more time Garrosh Hellscream will have to build his defenses. If we wait until the new year, even three more battalions might not be enough to take him. I won't let that monster escape justice, Lieutenant, I just won't."

Auriana turned away, silently chastising herself for her loss of control. It wouldn't do for her subordinate to see her so rattled. If she were to lead a successful assault on Grommashar, she had to be a powerful, intractable command presence.

"Besides which, I have an idea of how to bolster our forces," Auriana continued, more calmly this time. "If the Alliance won't give me the manpower I need, then perhaps the Horde will."

" _What?_  Commander... do you intend to make some kind of treaty with the Horde?" Thorn hissed, shocked that Auriana would make such a suggestion.

"No…. no, of course not. But… do we still know the location of that Horde spy in Gorgrond?" Auriana asked thoughtfully.

"Yes…" Thorn said tentatively.

"Good," she said. "I'd like you to... let it slip... to Frostwall that we intend to assault Grommashar in three days."

"Why?" asked Thorn, eyes narrowing. "That's important intelligence. What's to stop Frostwall moving against Lunarfall with that information?"

Auriana waved a hand dismissively. She had no special love of Vol'jin's Horde, but for the moment, at least, they shared a common enemy.

"The Horde commander is no fool, he has no interest in starting trouble with the Alliance while the Iron Horde run unchecked, and certainly not while Garrosh Hellscream lives," she said. "And I'll not leave Lunarfall entirely undefended."

"You think if they know of our plans, they will join in our assault," Thorn surmised shrewdly. "Commander, you have no authority to make such an alliance."

"Who said anything about an alliance?" Auriana said innocently. "I don't control the Horde. If Frostwall decides to attack Grommashar at the same time we do, I can hardly be held responsible. It would simply be a... convenient coincidence."

Thorn snarled. Auriana could see the doubt in her eyes.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Commander," she said warningly.

Auriana stared her down, eyes cold. Thorn wavered, but for the time being, her faith in Auriana seemed to have held.

"I know what I'm doing, Lieutenant," she said grimly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Unless you'd like to argue with me further, you have your orders. We ride for Grommashar in three days."

* * *

The morning of the assault on Grommashar, Auriana awoke at the break of dawn. She dressed quickly in the near darkness, pulling on her favourite set of battle robes. There was something familiar and comforting about the old set. They fit her like a glove, and she never felt really  _whole_  unless she was wearing them. She knew they probably needed replacing, but they'd kept her alive thus far, and she'd become somewhat superstitious about wearing them into her most critical battles.

She made her way downstairs and out into the fresh morning air. Despite the early hour, the garrison was already abuzz with activity. Hundreds of troops were milling around the central square, and she could hear the sound of many more men moving around outside. The air was filled with the sound of shouted orders, clinking metal armour, and the excited whinnies of the garrison's war horses.

As she made her way towards the stables to retrieve her mount, she was intercepted by Lieutenant Thorn. The lieutenant had shifted into her worgen form, and she was dressed in full battle armour. With her thick, dark fur and snarling visage, she certainly looked intimidating.

"Good morning," she said, saluting eagerly. "I'm ready to fight by your side, Commander."

Auriana paused and bit her lip, knowing that her next words would hurt her faithful worgen lieutenant. She'd demanded a lot from her lieutenant in the last few days, and now Auriana had to disappoint her once more.

"I'm sorry, Thorn, but you're staying behind," she said firmly, though not unsympathetically. "If our assault fails, someone has to take command at Lunarfall. Someone has to see to our defenses, and there's no-one I trust more than you."

Thorn recoiled slightly. Even in her lupine form, it was possible to read the disappointment and frustration on her face.

"You do realise that most senior commanders don't take such risks with their own lives," Thorn argued. "I should go in your place."

Auriana reached out and gripped Thorn's arm, her eyes intense.

"I don't know how to fight from the back, Thorn," she said. "I just… don't. So I'm asking you to do it for me. Please."

Thorn growled deep in her throat, but the savage gleam in her eyes softened slightly.

"As you wish, Commander," she said finally.

"Thank you," Auriana said sincerely, gently releasing Thorn's arm.

They were joined by Delvar Ironfist and another one of Auriana's lieutenants, a slab-faced warrior named Barrett Gale.

"Company's assembled and ready to go, Commander," Gale reported, with an eager grin.

"Good. Have the mages start opening portals and moving our troops through. Yrel's company will meet us outside Grommashar."

"Yes, ma'am!" Gale said smartly, relaying her orders through the ranks as he moved away.

She collected the reins of her charger from a nearby private, and swung into the saddle. Bright flashes of light split the air around the garrison as her mages opened portals to Nagrand. Auriana took her horse in hand, and prepared to follow her men, when Thorn reached up and grabbed the reins.

"Have you sent word to Stormwind?" she asked.

"No," Auriana said flatly. "I'm not required to inform Stormwind of every move I make. This is my command, and my operation. I'll report to Stormwind when I actually have something to report."

Her intense anger at Varian Wrynn had mostly faded since their argument, but she wasn't willing to risk his interference in her attack. He also hadn't contacted her in three days, and she certainly didn't intend on being the first to bridge the gap that had opened between them. He was far too complicated, and right now she needed to focus her attention on Grommashar. Varian, their argument, and their kiss were all problems for another day, and Auriana firmly banished all thoughts of the King from her mind.

Thorn looked thoroughly displeased at Auriana's reply, but she nevertheless stepped back and allowed Auriana to ride forwards.

"Be careful, Commander," Thorn said sternly.

"I always am, Lieutenant," Auriana called back over her shoulder, as she heeled her war horse towards one of the portals. "Take good care of my garrison."

* * *

Auriana was one of the last to emerge through the portal. Her army was already marshalling into organised formations, under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Gale. In the distance, she heard the wild cry of Warsong horns. Evidently, her little invasion had not gone unnoticed by Hellscream. Even now, he would be mobilising his defenses against her. She saw Yrel's company amassing just to the north of her own troops.

She rode to the head of her army, looking up at Grommashar. She had several thousand troops under her command today, and she only hoped it would be enough.

"Commander!" a scout called out suddenly. "Riders on the horizon!"

As one, Auriana and her army looked to the west, where a large column was moving slowly towards Grommashar. They rode under the blood red banner of the Horde, and Auriana felt a wave of tension ripple through her men at their approach. Many of her soldiers unsheathed their swords or knocked their bows in readiness.

" _Hold_!" she ordered. "Do  _not_  engage. We're only fighting one Horde today, and that isn't them."

Her heart thundered nervously in her chest as her eyes locked with those of the Frostwall commander; a tall, pale-green troll with blood red hair. She didn't know his name, but his tribal tattoos marked him as a Darkspear. He stared back at her intently, and offered her a respectful nod. She returned the gesture, and knew that he had understood the unconventional message she had sent through the leaked intelligence. She didn't let it show on her face, but inwardly she let out a deep sigh of relief that her gambit had worked.

The Darkspear troll lifted his his hand so she could see it, and made a series of standard military hand gestures. Auriana recognised the signals immediately.

_Friendly. West. Attack._

She raised her own hand in acknowledgement of his message, to show that she understood. Seemingly satisfied, the Frostwall commander turned his riding raptor away, and lead the rest of his army further to the west. Auriana turned to her own assembled troops.

"Vol'jin's Horde will attack through the west gate. We'll take the east, so we shouldn't have too much crossover in our respective assaults. That said, watch your targets. We attack Iron Horde  _only._ We're not here to fight a war on two fronts."

She paused, looking out over her troops. They were all of them brave and loyal, men and women from all corners of the Alliance, who were willing to lay down their lives to hold Hellscream and his Warsong orcs to account.

"Our true enemy this day is Garrosh Hellscream," she reminded them. "What he did in Pandaria, and in Kalimdor, was not just a crime against the people of Theramore, or the Alliance, or even the Horde… it was a crime against decency itself. It was a crime against peace, and a crime against honor."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Today, he will face the consequences of his actions. We are outnumbered, but we are not outmatched. This day has been concluded. Garrosh Hellscream's life is already forfeit. All that remains is to determine how he dies."

"For the Alliance!" she screamed. "For Theramore!"

Her army roared back at her, a variety of cries echoing through the still air. Auriana's heart leapt with pride and the thrill of battle.

"For the Alliance!"

"Theramore!"

"Stormwind!"

"Lunarfall!"

"Sound the horns!" she commanded. "Hellscream's doom is upon him."


	23. Auriana

Lunarfall's war horns shattered the early morning air, and Auriana's army surged forwards in response. They swarmed towards Grommashar eagerly, ready to do their part for the glory of the Alliance. To the west, the Horde troops had simultaneously launched their own assault, their red banners waving proudly in the light breeze. Yrel's forces were already inside the first gates, and Auriana could hear the familiar sounds of battle as the vindicator's men engaged the Warsong.

For her part, Auriana heeled her charger forwards into the fray. The big beast pulled eagerly at the reins as he threw himself willingly into the orc lines. Auriana hurled mighty bursts of frost and ice from his back, single-handedly decimating entire squads of orc defenders. Auriana relished every second of the fight. She hadn't really exercised her full abilities since fighting with Varian in Tanaan Jungle, and she was full to the brim with reckless energy.

The first wave of resistance soon crumpled under the combined assault of Lunarfall and the draenei, but the rest of the Warsong would not go down so easily. Hellscream soon rallied his archers, and the Alliance forces soon came under fire from a hail of flaming arrows.

"Archers!" Auriana screamed. "Bring them down!"

Shields, both physical and magical, sprang up everywhere. Her forces surged forwards, and she saw bright flashes of red, green, and purple magic as her casters began to pick off Hellscream's ranged attackers.

Unfortunately, archers weren't the only weapon in Hellscream's arsenal. Auriana soon heard the terrifying boom of cannons, and her men scrambled to dodge the incoming fire. Auriana urged her horse forwards, trying to get to higher ground, when a shell exploded barely a foot in front of the animal's nose. Although well trained, the charger shied before the blast. Auriana didn't have time to react as the stallion reared, and she was thrown heavily to the side. Her head hit the ground with a nasty crack, and for a second she saw nothing but stars. For a moment she lay there, thoroughly dazed, while the still-functioning part of her brain screamed at her to  _get up_.

"On yer feet, Commander," came a rough voice from somewhere nearby. "No time to sleep."

She recognised Delvar Ironfist standing above her, ever her personal shadow, and gratefully accepted his gauntleted fist. He hauled her to her feet, grinning wolfishly.

"That was close," he observed. "Yer horse has run off, by the way."

"Damn cannon," she swore, shaking her head to clear away the last vestiges of dizziness.

She looked up at the offending machine, perched high above them on the hill side. Breathing deep, she summoned a powerful blast of ice, and obliterated the cannon in a single strike.

"Well, that's one less thing we have to worry about," she said. "Let's get moving."

The cannon fire had scattered her forces, and they were now spread out throughout Grommashar, fighting small, bitter skirmishes against the Warsong orcs. With Ironfist pounding at her heels, Auriana charged further up the hill with fierce abandon. Her blood ran hot, and she was focused on the path to Garrosh Hellscream like a quick arrow loosed from a bow. Countless soldiers of Grommashar tried to stop her advance, but they inevitably fell before her magical onslaught.

As she climbed higher, a group of four orcs appeared on the path ahead of her. They seemed cleverer than the dead orcs that littered the hill in her wake, and she could tell they intended to work together as a group to take her down. Snarling, she surrounded herself with a swirling storm of ice and death and blinked forward to greet them. Behind her, she heard the clink of Delvar Ironfist's armor as he charged forwards behind her.

She barrelled into the group orcs like an icy ram. The first orc died instantly, taken in the throat by a barrage of razor sharp ice. The second was faster, and managed to throw herself to the side and slip under Auriana's guard. The she-orc swung her axe wildly at Auriana's head. She blocked the swing with her long belt knife, and punished the orc's insolence with an icy blast to the heart. The third orc fell to a single mighty blow from Ironfist. Auriana leapt over the orc's corpse as it tumbled towards her, and closed in on the fourth and final orc. As she ran towards him, she was raced by tendrils of death energy emanating from Ironfist. The orc was irresistibly pulled towards them, but before he was fully propelled to Ironfist's feet, Auriana threw up a wall of solid ice. The orc hit the wall with a sickening crunch, his face horribly mangled by the impact.

"Ha!"" she screamed, as Ironfist's axe ended what remained of the orc's existence.

For a brief second, the unnatural paleness of the death knight's face looked almost alive with the thrill of the battle. The small group dealt with, Auriana and Ironfist made their way further up the hill. As they ran, Ironfist slapped her on the back enthusiastically.

"Sure ye don't want ter be a Death Knight, Commander?" Ironfist growled, in the strange, echoing accent of the undead. "Ye've got the right attitude for it."

"I'm not a fan of your recruitment methods," Auriana quipped, making Ironfist laugh.

She liked the stout Death Knight, but she found that his laugh always gave her the chills.

Their moment of levity was short lived, however, as the body of an Alliance paladin came tumbling down the path towards them. Auriana pulled up abruptly as the paladin came to rest at her feet. The young man groaned painfully, clutching at his side.

"Soldier!" she barked, pulling him back to his feet. "Are you injured?"

"A few bumps and bruises, Commander, but nothing serious," he said firmly, though Auriana could hear a slight tremble in his voice.

As he spoke, a soft golden light surrounded him, and he suddenly looked much better.

"Report," she ordered briskly. "What's happening further up?"

"Its a trap, ma'am," he said, "Some of us managed to sneak up higher to take out the cannons, but we walked right into it. They're getting reinforcements from these giant holes in the walls. There are wolves everywhere, and they're tearing our front lines apart. From what I could see, Yrel and the Horde aren't faring much better."

Auriana growled furiously.

"Let's see what we can do about that," she said viciously.

She used her power to send a burst of arcane sparks spiraling into the air. Barely a second later, a cadre of eight garrison mages materialised around them. Auriana recognised their leader, an experienced and trustworthy gnome named Lissi Fizzcrank.

"We saw the signal, Commander," Lissi said brightly. "How can we be of assistance?"

"The Warsong are pulling reinforcements from those tunnels up ahead, I need you to ice them up," Auriana ordered.

"As you wish, Commander," said Lissi, already looking ahead to her target.

"We'll clear a path to protect you," Auriana said. "Get to work!"

She charged forwards again, ahead of her mages, and began to beat back the tide of orcs and wolves. Delvar Ironfist followed right on her heels, dragging the young paladin with him.

"Stay with us, solider. What's yer name?" Ironfist asked as they ran.

"Rohan Ballard, sir," the paladin said.

He looked very grateful to no longer be alone, and he hefted his shield with considerably more vigor as they charged into the melee. The three of them soon fell into a natural rhythm, with Ironfist and Ballard holding the vanguard while Auriana cast with impunity. The path down the hill formed a natural choke point, and the orcs and their wolves were unable to outrun their deaths. Behind them, Lissi Fizzcrank's group of mages channeled thick beams of ice at the orc tunnels, preventing anymore wolves from coming through.

Without reinforcements, the remaining orcs soon realised they wouldn't be able to push past Auriana's squad. One of them sounded a retreat, and the Warsong practically fell over themselves trying to run for the safety of higher ground.

"We've got them on the run, Commander!" Ironfist whooped, hefting his axe above his head in a display of triumph.

"It's not over yet," she reminded him sternly.

Her instincts told her that something was wrong, and that Hellscream wouldn't have sacrificed ground so easily if he didn't have something else in mind. She beckoned to her garrison mages.

"Stay close, I may have need of you," she ordered. "Let's keep moving, but be cautious."

Auriana lead her squad further up towards the heart of Grommashar. All the orcs in the immediate vicinity seemed to have fled, but she could still hear the sound of fighting both further up the hill and out to the west. She looked around carefully, trying to gauge her position. It appeared some of the Alliance forces had found another path around to the east, and had managed to successfully push the Warsong back to their cannon lines. She looked to the west, and was heartened to see that Vol'jin's Horde had also had similar success.

"I think that's Yrel up there, Commander!" Ballard called suddenly, pointing.

Auriana followed his line of sight, and saw a blaze of bright golden Light that could only be the young draenei vindicator. Yrel was engaging three orcs single-handedly, and none of them were having any luck getting inside the range of her whirling hammer. Auriana blinked forward to help. She blasted one orc out of the way with a wave of her hand, and Yrel finished the other two with mighty blows from her hammer.

"Morning, Yrel," Auriana called, as the rest of her group ran up to join them.

"Commander," Yrel acknowledged, wiping sweat from her brow.

"My forces seem to have them contained below, and we've cut off their reinforcements. I think we can move towards Hellscream's command."

"I concur," Yrel said, in her clipped draenei accent, "I have D'kaan and a group of Rangari sc…"

"Loose the Hungerer!" came a fierce roar from above, cutting Yrel off.

Auriana's heart surged. She would know that voice anywhere.

_Hellscream._

The berserker blood within her practically screamed for release, and Auriana was sorely tempted to let it loose, but a quick glance at Yrel quelled her surging fury. Unfortunately, Hellscream was not the only one likely to suffer if she was unable to maintain control.

"What in the name o' Magni's beard is  _that_?" Ironfist exclaimed, interrupting her troubled thoughts.

The ground quivered beneath their feet as a hulking monstrosity with spiked shoulders and a single eye bore down upon them.

"That's a gronn," Auriana breathed, already calling ice to her fingertips. "And not just any gronn - that's Durn the Hungerer, son of Gruul."

"Er… do we have a plan here, Commander?" Ironfist asked, unconsciously taking a step back.

"Yrel… take D'kaan and the Rangari archers and find a way around to the final gates," Auriana ordered quietly. "There's no point in all of us falling to the gronn. I think I know how I can take it down, but just in case we can't… at least you'll still have a shot at Garrosh."

Yrel nodded in agreement, moving her troops into position without argument. Auriana turned to Ironfist, Ballard, and her mages.

"What do ye propose?" Ironfist asked, his pallid face intense.

"I need you and the paladin to keep it occupied for as long as you can... we'll do the rest," she said, looking over at her fellow mages. "Lissi, do you know how to cast in concert?"

"Yes, Commander," Lissi replied, her small face set.

"We all do, ma'am," one of the other mages piped up.

"Good," Auriana said. "This might just work."

She looked over at Ironfist and nodded grimly.

"Get to it," she ordered.

Without so much as a pause, Ironfist threw himself at the mighty gronn with a savage war cry. The gronn bellowed back, its limited attentional capabilities now thoroughly consumed by the strange little annoyance striking at its legs. The paladin Ballard followed quickly, charging at the gronn with his shield ablaze. Durn the Hungerer swung his fists furiously, but Ironfist and Ballard may as well have been flies for all the damage they seemed to be doing. Unfortunately, Auriana didn't have time to care. She turned to her group of mages, and began to give them hurried instructions.

For casting extremely powerful spells, mages were able to work together to concentrate and pool their power. Much like she had when she'd worked with Kinzie Swiftspanner on the Stormshield portal, Auriana reached out and tapped into the power afforded by the other mages as they began channeling at her command. Lissi was easily the strongest, after Auriana herself, but the rest of the group were no slouches, either. Auriana felt her head pound and her hands shake as she absorbed their excess power. As the focal point for the spell, it was her task to guide and shape the raw contribution of the other mages. It was no small feat to control so much energy, but Auriana was both powerful and stubborn.

Her eyes burning with arcane power, she rounded on Durn the Hungerer. With a feral grin, Auriana unleashed an arcane torrent at the gronn's heavy chest. For a long heartbeat, she felt like she no longer existed as anything other than a conduit for the magic. The great purple beam bisected the gronn, burning a hole clear through its chest. Ironfist and Ballard were thrown back by the blast wave, both panting heavily as they tumbled into the dirt. The gronn fell with a mighty crash, and a great roar went up from the nearby Alliance and Rangari defenders as the beast drew its last breath.

Auriana once again struggled with temptation. With a simple act of will, she could drain her linked mages dry and use their power to send Garrosh Hellscream into the Twisting Nether, but she reluctantly released them and collapsed to her knees instead. The other mages staggered as Auriana let them go, but they were able to remain standing.

Ironfist and Ballard had regained their feet, and rushed over to help Auriana.

"I've never seen anything like that!" Ironfist growled proudly. "Do ye need a moment, Commander?"

"No, I'll be fine. We have to get to Yrel!" Auriana urged, using Ironfist as a balance as she gathered her legs beneath her.

She dragged herself forward, her squad following a step behind. Yrel and D'kaan's Rangari had done an excellent job of clearing the way, and they now stood before the final barricade keeping them from Hellscream. Auriana looked up ahead, and for the first time, she caught a glimpse of the disgraced warchief himself. Garrosh stood proudly outside his fortress, the great axe Gorehowl glinting in the sun as he lifted it eagerly.

"Come, draenei witch. I'm waiting," he snarled down at them, his voice dripping with rage and hubris.

Auriana and Yrel exchanged a look.

"It looks like Garrosh wants to play," Auriana said lightly. "I'm more than willing to oblige him."

Yrel nodded, her beautiful lilac face grave.

"D'kaan, I need you and our forces to stay here," she said quietly. "Buy us the time we need to deal with Garrosh."

D'kaan stepped forward, and clasped Yrel's hands gently.

"Whatever happens, Maraad would be proud," the older draenei said, before moving away to see to his men.

Yrel looked away, and Auriana pretended not to notice the slight gleam of tears in her eyes at the mention of the fallen vindicator's name. Maraad was yet another good man whose death could be laid squarely at Hellscream's feet.

"Stay with the Rangari," Auriana ordered her mages. "Follow D'kaan's orders in my stead. Ironfist, Ballard, you're with me."

The Rangari and mages moved back down the hill, ready to hold the position against any orcs who would attempt to stop the assault on Garrosh.

"Well, this is it," Auriana said, almost overwhelmed by the nervous pounding of her heart. "It's time to end Garrosh Hellscream once and for all."

"For Theramore," said Ironfist quietly, hefting his axe.

"For Stormwind," Ballard added, his youthful features both excited and terrified.

"For Maraad!" Yrel cried passionately.

The final gates exploded with a blast from one of the Alliance cannons, and Yrel, Ironfist, and Ballard charged forwards to meet Hellscream. Auriana, however, hesitated; a strange catch in her throat. So much of her recent life had been about this moment, but now that it was here, she found herself thoroughly unprepared for the the sudden rush of emotions surging through her chest. Her thoughts turned to her parents, and Darion Hailey, and all the others who had perished in that single, horrific moment when Theramore had been wiped from existence. Auriana knew very well that she might lose her life in the coming battle, but it would all be worth it if Hellscream fell with her. And if she survived, well… for the first time since the fall of Theramore, Auriana also found her thoughts turning to a future beyond Garrosh Hellscream…

Although she wasn't a religious person by nature, Auriana muttered a quick prayer to the Light.

"For Varian Wrynn," she murmured softly, and she strode forward through the ruined gates.


	24. Auriana

Auriana crested the last rise of Grommashar a few paces behind her companions. Garrosh Hellscream stood out in the open, surrounded by a crowd of jeering orcs. He was bare and barrel-chested, as always, and his tattooed visage was twisted into a savage grin. It took everything Auriana had not to run straight at him, but her anger hadn't yet made her that stupid. Hellscream was a canny and experienced warrior, and it would take all of them to take him down.

"You're a fool to come here," he was saying to Yrel. "You think after everything, you can kill me?"

Yrel's knuckles were stark white against the handle of her hammer, formally Maraad's, but she radiated an aura of warming Light.

"We'll bring you to justice,  _monster_!" she cried vehemently.

Garrosh grunted dismissively.

" _Justice_ ," he spat bitterly. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

Yrel howled, and threw herself forwards. Gorehowl met her hammer with a grating clang, and they were soon embroiled in a bitter duel. As the vindicator and Hellscream began to fight in earnest, a number of his followers unsheathed their weapons, and closed in to aid their warchief.

"Protect Yrel!" Auriana ordered.

Yrel would need time to deal with Garrosh, and Auriana refused to let anyone else interfere. Trusting that Yrel could hold her own, at least for the moment, Auriana set about decimating Hellscream's remaining reinforcements. Ironfist and Ballard flanked her as she moved, summoning a great icy blizzard that destroyed anything in its path. Any orc that tried to stop her spellweaving was slain by her steadfast guards, and soon they were surrounded by scores of dead orcs.

As she fought, Auriana cast a quick glance over to Yrel. The draenei vindicator was fighting well, but Auriana could see Hellscream's superior size and experience was wearing her down. Snarling, Auriana charged a frostbolt and hurled it as she ran forwards to aid Yrel. Hellscream roared in outrage as his thick thigh froze, and he just barely ducked under a mighty blow from Yrel's hammer. Carried by the weight of her swing, Yrel staggered, and Hellscream took the opportunity to give her a mighty backhand across the face. The draenei vindicator flew fourteen feet to crumple into the dirt, where she twitched and lay still.

Hellscream grinned toothily, and turned his attention to Auriana's little group. Ironfist was still engaging a group of Warsong orcs, holding them back so that she could fight. Seeing Hellscream's attention switch to Auriana, the paladin Ballard moved to into a defensive position between her and the orc. He raised his shield determinedly, but Auriana could see his hands shaking.

"Be brave," she told him, "We'll take him together."

The words had barely left her mouth before the warchief tore himself free of Auriana's frost spell and bounded forward. Ballard caught a heavy blow from Gorehowl on his shield, and Auriana took advantage of the opportunity to launch her own assault against the orc. Frustratingly, Hellscream was used to fighting mages, and he maneuvered the paladin such that Auriana would risk hitting her own friendly soldier if she wasn't careful. His armour was also carefully ensorcelled to resist her spells, which made her job that much harder. Auriana knew she could break through his defenses eventually, if only Ballard could hold out in the melee. Unfortunately, it was clear the young, inexperienced paladin was hopelessly outmatched against Hellscream. Her eyes met the warchief's, and she could see he'd come to the same conclusion.

"I am your death!" the disgraced orc howled. "I cannot be defeated. Now you die!"

He lunged forward unexpectedly, with a savage upwards blow. Auriana dodged to the side and managed to escape unharmed, but Rohan Ballard was not so lucky. Unable to bring his shield up in time, Gorehowl took him at the shoulder, and the young paladin's arm fell clean away. Auriana flinched as she was drenched in a spray of arterial blood. Ballard fell to the ground in utter shock, shuddering and unable to even scream.

Hellscream grinned savagely, and threw a wild blow at Auriana. Distracted as she was by Ballard writhing at her feet, she dodged a second too late, and Gorehowl dealt a glancing blow across her side. She fell to her knees in pain, only to be hoisted into the air a second later as the warchief grabbed her by the throat.

"I know you!" Hellscream snarled, as his fingers closed around her neck. "I know you! You stood against me at Orgrimmar! Today you will pay the price for your insolence, Alliance bitch."

Stars swum before her eyes and her wounded side screamed in protest. She tried to summon some of her power, but Hellscream shook her roughly by the neck. The world around her began to fade, as her fingernails cut desperate grooves into Hellscream's thick fingers.

"I… only give… insolence… where it's…. deserved," she managed to choke, staring him down fearlessly.

Hellscream barked out a harsh laugh, and tightened his grip on her neck. Auriana knew it would not be long before the bones began to crack. She kicked out at him futilely, but her strength was fading as rapidly as her air supply.

"You are brave, little mage, but…" Hellscream threatened, when their struggle was interrupted by a booming voice from the west.

"Garrosh!"

Hellscream whirled to face his new opponent. His grip relaxed slightly as he turned, and Auriana used the brief reprieve to gratefully gulp down what little oxygen she could.

"Thrall!" Hellscream hissed in recognition.

Auriana could hardly make out the green-skinned shaman behind Hellscream's bulk, but she  _could_  see the muscles in the warchief's neck bulge with tension as he focused his attention on Thrall. It seemed that Vol'jin's Horde had successfully captured the western gate, and she'd never been so glad to see an orc in her life.

"You're too late, old  _friend_..." Garrosh crowed.

He hefted Auriana and tossed her at the shaman's feet. Dazed by her throttling and the wound in her side, Auriana could barely summon the effort to break her fall. She landed hard on her back, and couldn't help but to cry out in pain.

Thrall flinched as she hit the ground, and approached her slowly. He knelt down beside her, and Auriana felt him gently press his large, green hand against her neck. Evidently satisfied that she was alive, at least for the moment, Thrall rose again to his full height and turned his terrible gaze upon Hellscream. Thrall shifted his grip on the Doomhammer, drawing Hellscream's gaze to the fabled weapon. For a second, Auriana thought she saw something like fear cross the former warchief's face, only to be replaced a second later by a cold arrogance.

"No," Thrall said finally, his quiet voice filled with emotion. "No more, Garrosh. Just you and me."

Thrall sighed, as if every word was painful, but his voice never wavered as he stood toe to toe with Hellscream.

"I challenge you to  _mak'gora_!"

Yrel had managed to drag herself to her feet, leaning heavily on her hammer for balance.

"Thrall, no!" she implored him.

Thrall gave her a small, sad smile, but his eyes remained hard and cold as he stared Hellscream down. The two orcs stood in stark contrast to one another, as different as night and day. Where Thrall was solemn but resigned, Hellscream was practically foaming at the mouth with bloodlust.

Hellscream flexed his muscles threateningly.

"Very well, shaman!" he declared, accepting the challenge. "We finish this alone, where it all began… at the Stones of Prophecy."

* * *

The two orcs had wasted no time after the declaration of  _mak'gora_ , and had immediately made their way towards the Stones of Prophecy. Still reeling, but with her strength rapidly returning, Auriana staggered to her feet. Alliance forces now surged all around her, and the remaining orcs of Grommashar were fleeing before the tide. She snapped her fingers at a nearby sergeant, and commanded him to bring her a war horse while she caught her breath.

The sergeant was quick to respond, and barely seconds after she had given the order he returned with a wide eyed charger.

"Sorry, Commander, he's a bit riled up, but there aren't many beasts available."

"He'll do," Auriana said, adjusting the stirrups for her height.

Frankly, she didn't care whether she had to ride down the hill on a pig, if it meant she could witness the  _mak'gora._

"Auriana! You are injured!" Yrel exclaimed, realising that Auriana intended to follow the two orcs to the Stones of Prophecy.

Yrel had been attending to the human paladin who had lost his arm. The young man was now unconscious, but Auriana could still see the slow rise and fall of his chest. Yrel herself was battered and bruised, but it didn't appear as if she had obtained any critical injuries. With the human paladin stabilised, she rushed forwards and gently pressed her hands against Auriana's stomach. There was a flash of golden light, and Auriana felt her head clear and her pain lessen slightly.

"This is not a minor wound. It is beyond my skill to heal. You need to be evacuated with the others," Yrel insisted, gently pulling on Auriana's sleeve to move her away from the skittish war horse.

Auriana yanked her arm away roughly.

"No," she said firmly. "I… I have to see him fall. I have to see him  _pay_."

"The shaman Thrall can handle Garrosh, now that he has agreed to  _mak'gora_. We need to evacuate the wounded! It cannot be long before Hellscream the elder learns of what has happened here," Yrel pleaded. "He will send reinforcements from Tanaan, and we cannot afford to fight another skirmish this day."

"No!" Auriana yelled furiously, losing control. "If it is to be ended, I will be there. I  _will_ see him pay… and if Thrall is incapable, I will end Garrosh's miserable existence myself."

She turned face the draenei vindicator, her eyes pure ice.

"You will  _not_ deny me this, Yrel."

Yrel looked as if she wished to say more, but accepted Auriana's choice.

"Do what you must, mage," Yrel said, with a sad shake of her head. "I will see to the evacuation of our forces, and then join you and the shaman, should he survive."

"I'll return shortly, Yrel," Auriana said firmly, as she swung into the saddle. "Pull our forces back to Lunarfall, and send for aid from Stormshield. If necessary, send word to Stormwind. They will be able to help."

Her injured side burned in protest, but she found she was beyond caring. The big bay horse shifted uneasily beneath her as she took him firmly in hand. Her eyes followed the path of Thrall and Hellscream. She could just make them out in the distance as they rode ahead of her down the hill. She grit her teeth.

"This won't take long."

* * *

Auriana was apparently not the only one interested in observing the challenge. As she crested the slight rise before the Stones of Prophecy, she saw that a small group had assembled around Thrall and Garrosh. Auriana recognised a number of Alliance and draenei soldiers, as well as a number of orcs, including Durotan and Draka of the Frostwolf clan. Durotan met her gaze steadily, and gave her a slow, respectful nod. Auriana returned the gesture in kind. Despite her hatred of the Iron Horde, she knew the Frostwolves were beings of honour.

The air was rife with tension. Although not all were orcs, all those watching understood the rules of  _mak'gora_. All knew that the challenge would only end one way, and that only one warrior would walk away from the Stones of Prophecy.

Despite the audience, however, Thrall and Hellscream only had eyes for each other. Auriana itched to face Hellscream herself, but she could understand that Thrall's claim to Hellscream's head was perhaps the greatest, second only perhaps to Jaina Proudmoore. Despite her anger, Auriana was willing to give Thrall his chance, though if he failed, she knew she would be unable to control her actions.

"You must answer for your crimes, Garrosh," Thrall said heavily, raising the Doomhammer.

Hellscream snarled, and hurled himself at Thrall. The two orcs clashed body to body, and neither gave an inch. Auriana had never seen two orcs fight before, and she was taken aback by the savagery of their duel. Both Thrall and Hellscream were seasoned warriors in the prime of their lives, that they fought with unbridled fury. Auriana found herself swept up in the emotion and drama of the battle, her blood surging with every bone-rattling blow.

"All I did, I did for the Horde!" Hellscream roared, throwing a particularly powerful strike at Thrall's head.

Thrall just barely parried the blow, losing ground for his trouble.

"You failed the Horde," he cried between gritted teeth, his face contorted with pain and disappointment.

At Thrall's words, Hellscream's already tenuous hold on his rage snapped. He launched into a wild frenzy of attacks, and soon overwhelmed Thrall's defenses.

" _You_  made me warchief," Hellscream howled, punctuating each word with a savage blow. " _You_  left me to pick up your pieces.  _You_ failed  _me_."

With an ear-splitting roar, Hellscream lunged forward and tore the prayer beads ruthlessly from Thrall's neck. A terrified, furious scream tore from Auriana's throat as Thrall collapsed to the ground, and she made to lunge forward to take Hellscream herself. Abruptly, however, she stopped, held in place by the strong hands of a tall, green troll. She blinked twice, recognising the imposing Frostwall commander who had led the Horde assault on Grommashar. His knuckles were raw and bloody, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. His clever golden eyes were fixed on the fight, but his hands gripped her shoulders tightly.

"You've done ya part, little lion," he said thickly. "Trust da shaman."

Auriana seethed, but held herself in check.

"You  _never_  had the strength of a true warrior," Hellscream snarled, lifting Gorehowl for the final blow.

"I do not rely on strength alone, Garrosh," Thrall said wearily, but his blue eyes were simmering pits of fire. "My power… is all around you."

Auriana felt the air hum with sudden energy. She was no shaman, but she knew real power when she felt it. Thrall lunged to his feet as he summoned a powerful blast of fire. Hellscream was knocked to the side, Gorehowl tumbling from his hands, only to be swept up by a wild burst of wind. Thrall threw Hellscream into the air, only to send him crashing back down to earth. Hellscream's fingers scrabbled in the dirt as he tried to get a hand to his axe, but it was to no avail. Thrall summoned a giant, grasping  _hand_ of earth and flame around Hellscream, holding him firmly in place.

"You made me what I am!" Hellscream bawled madly.

"No," Thrall said sadly, and Auriana was suddenly reminded that the two orcs had once been friends. "You chose your own destiny."

Thrall lifted a hand to the sky and summoned a single, deadly bolt of lightning. It burned bright white against the roiling sky, and Garrosh Hellscream screamed in agony as Thrall finally burned the life from him. No one moved, nor made a sound, as the warchief contorted wildly, before finally succumbing to his inevitable annihilation.

His grim task done, Thrall walked slowly over to the Doomhammer and lifted the weapon reverentially from the grass. Auriana released the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Behind her, she heard the Frostwall commander do the same. She stiffened in shock a second later as he gave her an awkward pat on the back.

"It is done. Vol'jin is avenged," he said gravely. "Til next time, little lion."

He moved away in the strange, loping gait of his people. Auriana watched him thoughtfully, surprised by his attitude. It was a curiosity that she'd have to dwell upon later, however. The rest of the assembled crowd soon followed the troll commander's lead, and Auriana was left alone on the hill with the smoking husk that had once been Garrosh Hellscream.

As she stared up at his corpse, her breath hitched in her throat. She'd fought so hard for this moment. Every step, every decision she had made in the last year had been for this… and now that Hellscream's blackened body lay before her, she felt strangely empty. Garrosh Hellscream was dead, and yet her loved ones were still gone, still quiet and lifeless in the graveyard that had once been Theramore. Her heart froze.

She barely noticed as someone approached from her left.

"Auriana…" she dimly heard Yrel's voice say. "Come along. It's time to leave."

"I can't," Auriana choked.

Tears were now flowing freely down her face, and her feet felt rooted to the ground. Without the hunt for Garrosh, she had nothing left. Despite her hatred of the orc, in a strange way, he had been the last connection she had to her family. Now he was gone, and she had nothing left save for dust and memories. Yrel tugged gently at her arm, but Auriana flinched away, refusing to move.

"Do your  _duty_ , Commander," Yrel urged. "There is nothing left here but for the ghost of Garrosh. See that you do not haunt this place as well."

Auriana shook her head miserably. Yrel had moved to stand beside her, and Auriana dimly realised that the draenei was accompanied by a stocky chestnut packhorse. She turned, and her gaze fell upon the severely wounded paladin who had joined the assault on Garrosh. Yrel had draped the man over the horse's back in order to carry him to safety. Despite the haze of pain that clouded her vision, Auriana was relieved to see that the young man was still alive, if unconscious. He'd been so afraid, and yet he'd stood proudly against Hellscream, simply because she'd asked. Her heart softened at the sight of him, and she realised that Yrel was right. She had to stop living in the past, if she were to do justice to her garrison. People like Rohan Ballard deserved better than her despair. Garrosh Hellscream and Theramore were her past, but Lunarfall and the Alliance were her future.

"The majority of our forces have been moved to Lunarfall," Yrel informed her gently. "We're the last to leave. Our more serious casualties are being moved to Stormwind. Your King has been most generous in offering his aid. I was just about to depart, myself."

"No," Auriana said firmly, coming back to her senses. "You should stay on Draenor. Report back to Lieutenant Thorn at Lunarfall. I'll take the paladin directly to Stormwind."

She took the reins of the horse from Yrel, the vindicator stepping back without protest. Her wounded side throbbed as she moved, and she began to suspect that she'd been injured more seriously than she had first anticipated.

"Come on, Rohan," she said soothingly, touching a hand to the unconscious paladin's hair. "We're going home."


	25. Varian

Three days after his argument with Auriana, Varian found himself taking lunch with Anduin. He'd been ill-tempered and sullen since she'd left, and it appeared Anduin had finally had enough of his father's moodiness. In an attempt to cheer his father up, Anduin had insisted that they take an early lunch. The golden-haired prince was canny enough not to ask what was wrong, instead trying to distract his father with lively conversation and terrible jokes. It had worked, to a degree, but Varian found his thoughts tended to stray to Auriana if unoccupied for any length of time. He'd gone to write her countless times, but his stubborn pride and uncertainty inevitably got in the way. At night, she dominated his dreams, and he'd woken up in a hot sweat more than once... not that he intended to mention  _any_ of this to Anduin.

Instead, they had discussed a variety of other topics, including Anduin's rapidly progressing studies in the priesthood. Varian had just finished the last bite of his lunch when there came a knock at his chamber door.

"Come in," he called, exchanging a curious look with Anduin.

A slight brunette messenger entered the room, her uniform neatly pressed.

"Sorry to interrupt, my Lords. I have an urgent message from Lieutenant Thorn," the courier said, handing him a formal military missive.

_Thorn?_  Varian wondered.

He knew Auriana was likely still angry at him, but he hadn't thought she'd resort to sending messages through her second in command. He broke the seal in frustration, only to have a chill run down his spine as he read the note:

_Your Majesty -_

_Commander Fenwild led an assault force against Grommashar this morning._

_I thought you ought to know._

"Damn," he breathed.

Anduin looked up from his meal in concern, his blue eyes wide.

"Father?" he asked curiously. "Is everything alright?"

"It's fine," Varian said firmly, turning back to the messenger. "Thank you for delivering this, you can go now."

The courier saluted him smartly and made a quick exit. Varian scratched his chin thoughtfully, staring down at Lieutenant Thorn's missive. Anduin was still looking at him intently, and Varian realised he wasn't going to get much past his alarmingly perceptive son.

"Lunarfall launched an assault on Grommashar this morning," Varian explained apprehensively.

"Your commander friend is hunting Garrosh," Anduin deduced. "Is that wise? I thought you were unable to send more troops to Draenor?"

"I wasn't… it doesn't seem to have stopped her, however," Varian observed wryly.

_Stubborn, stubborn woman,_  he thought silently.

"Would there be time to stop the attack?"

"No. The note wasn't very specific about times, but I would imagine they're fighting as we speak."

Varian ran a hand through his hair pensively.

"Besides which…" he continued. "I don't really have any grounds to interfere. For the most part, Lunarfall is an autonomous command. Auri… the Commander hasn't violated any standing orders, and she is well within the bounds of her authority to order an assault on Grommashar. It's just… reckless."

"I never thought I'd see the day that you, of all people, counselled caution, " Anduin quipped lightly, raising an eyebrow.

He hastily stifled a smile as Varian glowered.

"Sorry. You'll forgive me my teasing, Father. Can she win?" he asked, changing the topic.

"I don't know," Varian said. "That's what worries me."

He'd seen the numbers, and they weren't in favour of the Alliance, but he also knew Auriana was both a clever strategist and a fearsome front-line soldier. If anyone had a chance of bringing Garrosh Hellscream to justice, it was her.

"I hope so," he added quietly, as if saying the words might make all the difference.

* * *

By late afternoon, there had still been no news from Draenor. Varian now sat broodingly upon his throne, tapping his foot in agitation. Genn Greymane sat at his side, shooting not-so-covert looks Varian's way while he pretended to work on trade report. Anduin was reading quietly to Varian's right. Neither of them had said a word, but he knew they'd chosen to flank him in support, and he appreciated it.

His argument with Auriana seemed so silly now. All that mattered was that she came back alive. She was strong, and smart, but she was up against the might of the formidable Warsong clan. All it would take was one stray spell or a carefully placed arrow, and he'd never see her again. He silently cursed his inability to have pursued her after their kiss, and he resolved to rectify the situation when -  _if_ \- she returned safely home.

It was late afternoon when Varian finally heard news of the siege. There was a sudden commotion at the entrance to the throne room, as the guards pulled up a messenger wearing Lunarfall livery. Varian sat bolt upright, and motioned for the guards to let him pass.

"Your Majesty!" the messenger called out as he approached. "Forgive the intrusion, but I come from Draenor bearing word of the assault on Grommashar."

"Go on," Varian said quickly.

"Grommashar was assaulted earlier this morning. The attack was successful, but we suffered heavy casualties, and we do not have enough healers to treat our wounded in Lunarfall and Stormshield. Vindicator Yrel respectfully requests that Stormwind be made available as a haven for the most severely injured."

_Yrel?_  Varian wondered.

If the draenei vindicator was giving orders, then that meant they hadn't come from Auriana. And that meant… Varian felt his heart stop, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had to be a king first, and a man second.

"Whatever is needed, Stormwind will provide," he said firmly, rising to his feet. "Are the wounded ready for transportation?"

"We have mages in Stormshield ready to open a portal to the city on your word. Is there are a particular place they should send the wounded, Your Majesty?"

"They'll best be located in the courtyard of Stormwind Cathedral. Can your mages send them there directly?"

"I'm certain they can, Your Majesty," the messenger said, bowing hurriedly. "With your permission, my Lord, I'd best get back to Stormshield and relay the information."

"Yes, of course. Thank you for bearing this message," Varian said sincerely.

The young messenger bowed gratefully, but wasted no further time. He practically sprinted back to the portal room from whence he'd come. Varian motioned to his guards.

"Send word to the Cathedral, and have all available healers report there as well. Tell them to prepare to receive wounded immediately. I'll be there myself momentarily," he said.

The guards sprang into action without pause, moving swiftly to comply with the orders of their king. Genn Greymane had risen to his feet, as had Anduin.

"I'll send my personal healers to help, Varian," Greymane said, his bushy grey brows furrowed in concern.

"Thank you, Genn," Varian said quietly.

Greymane nodded, and walked away swiftly to make his own preparations.

"Father…" Anduin started.

Varian turned to his son. The young prince fairly radiated nervous energy, but his bright blue eyes were steady.

"Do you think it's bad?" Anduin asked worriedly.

"I suppose we'll find out. I hope not, but we should prepare for the worst."

Anduin stood up straighter, determination written in his posture.

"I want to help," he said.

Varian considered the request carefully. He had no idea what he'd be exposing Anduin to if he let the boy come. He still wanted to protect Anduin from the worst of what the world could offer, but he had to think of his people, too, and there was no denying his son's skill. Not even a couple of years ago, Varian would have ordered Anduin away, and they would have found themselves in a bitter argument. Although Varian still feared for his son's well being, he could not continue to deny the man Anduin was becoming, nor what he had to offer the Alliance.

"Very well," he said finally. "Come with me."

Anduin opened his mouth, and then shut it abruptly when he realised his father was not arguing with him. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't protest his own good fortune as he followed Varian out of the keep.

* * *

They arrived at the Stormwind Cathedral to find it in uproar. Over a hundred people had been crammed into the courtyard, and most of them were severely wounded. There were a large number of healers already hard at work, and the courtyard was quite literally aglow with the light of various healing magics.

A great cry went up from the conscious soldiers as Varian and Anduin entered.

"King Varian!"

"Stormwind!"

"Prince Anduin!"

"For the Alliance!"

Their shouts heartened Varian greatly as he took stock of the situation. From what he could see, there were many wounded, but fortunately it appeared there had been few deaths. He turned to comment to Anduin, but his son had vanished from his side. Varian looked about with some alarm, but soon spotted a bright flash of golden hair that could only be his son. Anduin was already hard at work on a dwarf warrior, his hands surrounded by the soft golden radiance of the Light.

Varian largely tried to stay out of the way, instead offering soldiers his thanks and comfort where he could. His real purpose, however, was to seek Auriana amongst the wounded. He prayed he wouldn't find her here, among the worst of it, but he knew that if there had been a battle, she would have been right in the middle. A second later, he realised it might be better if she  _were_ here, for at least it meant she wasn't dead _._

His heart stopped in his chest when he finally saw her, covered in dark, sticky blood. It was practically  _everywhere_ , all over her arms and chest, and down the left side of her face. She was still walking, somehow, leading a stocky chestnut horse through the crowd. He saw she had draped a young human soldier across the animal's back, and was leading the horse carefully towards a group of healers.

Their eyes met across the courtyard. Varian found himself speechless, his breath catching in his throat. It took everything he had not to run to her and pull her close, but he knew he couldn't. More than anything, he wanted to know how badly she was injured.

The question must have been written on his face, for she shook her head hard, and gave a significant glance at the unconscious soldier on the horse. It was then that Varian noticed that the young soldier was missing a limb. It had been severed clean at the shoulder, and someone had hastily bandaged the ruined mess that had once been the soldier's sword arm. Varian breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that most of the blood staining Auriana's robes must have belonged to the soldier. The sick, terrified feeling in his stomach lessened somewhat at the realisation. While Varian hurt for the injured soldier, he was guiltily relieved that it had not been Auriana who had suffered such a fate.

Varian forced himself to walk calmly, though he put himself on an intercept course with Auriana. Although she was still walking, he could see her leaning slightly against the horse as she led the beast and its injured burden towards a hard-working human priest. The blonde woman's eyes widened as she saw the extent of the damage to the young soldier, and she immediately moved to take him from the back of the horse. Auriana touched a gentle hand to the soldier's cheek, and whispered something to the healer.

The moment she backed away, Varian pulled her to his side, gripping her wrist tightly. He was gratified to feel her racing pulse beneath his fingers. It was far too fast, but at least it was  _there_ , at least he could feel the blood flowing through her veins, and at least she was safe with him.

"What happened?" he asked her quietly.

He kept his voice low, not wishing to agitate the wounded men and women, nor the healers who worked so diligently upon them.

"We captured Grommashar," she said shortly.

As she spoke, she raised a hand to wipe her eyes. Varian noted that the blood on her face must have been her own, stemming from a nasty cut above her left eye. He couldn't see any further injury, but it was hard to tell amongst all the dried blood. Her eyes were also red, as if she'd been crying. Every protective bone in his body ached, wanting to pull her into a close embrace.

"Garrosh?" Varian asked instead, knowing what it would have meant to her to have failed to secure the warchief's head.

"Dead," she whispered.

Varian had never heard a single word spoken with more feeling. In her voice and in her eyes, he found pain and triumph, fear and savage exaltation, and some dark, frightening emotion that he couldn't place. Varian himself felt an unexpected surge of triumph at Hellscream's demise.

"He died by Thrall's hand," she continued flatly.

"Thrall?" Varian exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

Despite the power he knew the former warchief possessed, he had never quite believed Thrall would have the stomach to end Garrosh himself. While Garrosh was Thrall's own monster in many ways, the two orcs had formerly been friends. Varian found himself reluctantly impressed by the shaman's actions, though they had come far too late.

"It was… it was… brutal," Auriana said. "Even with all that Garrosh was… I'm not sure anyone deserved to die like that."

She looked about at the chaos all around them, and he was surprised to see hot tears welling in her eyes. She gestured to the wounded Alliance soldiers.

"This is just the worst of it. There are many more who suffered injuries, though not as severe. They were evacuated to Lunarfall and Stormshield. Only a few dead, fortunately. We were lucky," she said dully.

Her pulse fluttered haphazardly beneath his fingers as she spoke, and Varian noticed her words had started to slur.

"Grommashar was hard won, but we  _were_ victorious," she said vaguely, more to herself than Varian.

Her eyes were intense, but her voice wavered as the enormity of the situation finally overcame her. Her right leg buckled, and Varian lunged forward to catch her before she hit the ground. She collapsed in his arms, her head lolling uselessly against his chest.

"Anduin!"

Varian cried out for his son, hoping to catch the young priest's attention. If Auriana needed medical aid, he'd make damn sure she was attended by the best. Hearing the urgency in his father's voice, Anduin rushed over. The young prince's face was strained, but Varian knew Anduin was exactly where he wanted to be.

Anduin's quick fingers gently examined the mage slumped in his father's arms.

"Gut wound," he diagnosed. "Did she say anything?"

"Not a word," Varian said. "We were discussing the assault. I thought… I thought the blood belonged to the soldier she dragged here. She looked  _fine_ , I didn't think to ask..."

"Get her inside, we're keeping the worst in there," Anduin commanded. "I won't lie, Father, it's bad."

The crown prince suddenly looked much older, and his words held a power that Varian hoped he would carry to the throne when he one day became King. Varian complied with his son's orders immediately, striding for the Cathedral with Auriana in his arms. She was light as a feather, and Varian moved her with little effort.

Once inside, Varian laid Auriana carefully on a hastily prepared stretcher. Anduin threw himself into his task immediately, ripping apart her robes so that he had space to work. The wound was surprisingly deep and ragged, and Varian grimaced as he glimpsed the raw, exposed muscle of her abdomen.

"Can I do anything? I should… will she be alright?" Varian asked, hovering awkwardly above his son.

"Father, with respect… be quiet," Anduin said firmly, his brows knit in intense concentration. "If I can't focus,  _she is going to die._ "

Varian stepped back immediately.

"Foolish mage. What, did she just wander around, bleeding out for an hour?" Anduin muttered to himself as he prayed to the Light. "She's lost so much blood, far more than she should have..."

"She must've been running on pure adrenaline," Varian commented, but Anduin didn't seem to have heard.

Varian paced back and forth as his son worked. Anduin murmured quiet prayers to the Light, casting spell after spell as he tried to stabilise the young commander. Varian frowned in concern as Anduin began to breathe heavily.

"Anduin," he said gently, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry, I'm losing her. I just… I just need to try harder," Anduin said, his voice strained. "Please, just let me work."

Varian withdrew his hand, and instead sat down on Auriana's other side. He might not be able to help his son, or his commander, but he wouldn't leave them alone. He felt utterly helpless, a strange feeling for such a capable and accomplished man. Idly, he reached out and grasped Auriana's hand. Her skin was ice cold and clammy, and her pale skin was now bone white. Varian added his own silent prayer to the Light as his son worked. He might not be a priest, nor a religious man, but he figured that every little bit helped.

The sky outside had darkened to a rich purple twilight by the time Anduin sat back and let the Light fade from his hands.

"She'll live," the prince said wearily. "Though I'll need to keep an eye on her for the next few days."

He looked up, as if only noticing just now that his father was there. Anduin looked pointedly from Varian's face to his iron grip on Auriana's hand, but made no further comment.

"I can have guest quarters prepared for her in the Keep. You can look in on her tomorrow, but right now you need to rest," Varian said, releasing Auriana's hand and placing it carefully by her side.

"I can help more people," Anduin protested lamely.

"Anduin, you're exhausted. You saved her life, and now you need to see to your own needs," Varian said firmly.

He expected further protest, but to his surprise Anduin nodded and placed his head in his hands. Varian motioned for a guard to convey Auriana's stretcher back to the Keep, and watched on as she was carefully lifted. For a second, Varian was torn. He wanted to escort Auriana's unconscious body back to the keep himself, but he also had a responsibility to his stubborn, weary child. He decided to sit down next to Anduin, placing a steadying hand on his son's back.

"You did well today," he said proudly, his voice cracking with emotion. "Thank you for saving her."

Anduin looked up at him with a tired, grateful smile.

"The Light makes all things possible," he said sagely, his face serene as he gently rested his head against Varian's strong shoulder.


	26. Auriana

Auriana blinked as she rapidly regained consciousness. The bedroom around her was unfamiliar, and she sat up in rising alarm. She regretted the sudden movement as her wounded side screamed in protest, wincing as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Fighting down her disoriented panic, her rational mind realised that she was somewhere in Stormwind Keep, judging by the grey stone walls hung with Alliance banners. She touched a hand to her chest, and noted that someone had swapped her well-loved battle robes for a pair of linen pants and a loose shirt.

_I've got to stop waking up in strange rooms with my clothes missing,_  she resolved.

What was happening to her life? In the last few months, she'd managed to save the life of the king, kiss him, shout at him, and then she'd led a foolhardy, if ultimately successful, assault against the person who had destroyed her life. She'd been seriously injured, and instead of seeking a healer, she'd dragged herself off to watch an orcish grudge match. Auriana had always been somewhat bloodthirsty, but she'd never been reckless. Her life usually consisted of a series of carefully planned and executed decisions. Recently, however, she felt like she was lurching from one unknown to the next, driven by her turbulent and uncertain heart.

_Get it together,_ she told herself firmly.

Auriana pulled the sheets off her body and gingerly rose to her feet. She swayed a little as she stood, but after a few seconds the room stopped swimming and she regained her balance. Now standing, she could see Stormwind Lake out the small window, and she realised she must be very high up in the keep. The little room was well apportioned, with a small reading desk, a mirror, and a mahogany wardrobe. She opened the wardrobe curiously, and breathed a sigh of relief to see her well loved battle robes hanging inside. Someone had obviously cleaned and repaired them, and they looked as good as new. She'd also been left a couple of simple dresses and a pair of boots.

Auriana made her way over to the mirror on unsteady feet, and lifted the thin linen shirt. She was surprised at how well she'd been healed. Her side still ached, and she felt somewhat woozy, but if she hadn't experienced the blow herself she might not have believed it had really happened. All that remained of the wound was a thin, crescent shaped scar. She leaned into the mirror, gently pressing her fingers against the taut skin of her stomach. She grimaced slightly in pain, but she'd been injured enough to know that she'd been incredibly lucky to have recovered as well as she had.

She jumped in fright a second later as the door of her room unexpectedly flew open, and none other than Anduin Wrynn walked in. She hastily yanked her shirt down to cover her bare midriff, and awkwardly attempted to bow to the young prince.

"Please, don't bother," Anduin said. "You shouldn't be moving around like that. In fact, you shouldn't even be out of bed. You nearly  _died_ , Commander."

"I didn't think I warranted personal healing from the Crown Prince of Stormwind," she said, realising that she had been healed by Anduin himself. "You saved my life. Thank you."

"You're one of Stormwind's most respected commanders, and the woman who felled Garrosh Hellscream," Anduin said, as if that explained everything.

"I didn't actually kill him, you know," she said, and was surprised to find she had genuinely mixed feelings about the former warchief's death.

"You captured Grommashar," Anduin pointed out. "Thrall may have dealt the killing blow, but it wouldn't have been possible if you hadn't captured Hellscream's stronghold."

"I shouldn't have done it," Auriana said, wrestling with her own feelings on the matter. "At least, not so soon. I made a command decision out of anger, like some green lieutenant on a first assignment. I should've waited. Too many… too many of my soldiers became casualties. I failed them."

"Not as many as you might think," Anduin said reassuringly, his blue eyes kind. "There were many wounded, but few will suffer any lasting effects, and there were fewer still who died. I doubt you will find many people who would argue with your decision to assault Grommashar as you did. From what I can tell, your men consider you something of a hero."

"You disagree?" she said perceptively, noticing the slightest hint of misgiving in his tone.

"I still don't know if violence is ever the  _best_  solution," Anduin said carefully, "But I do understand the necessities of war better than some might think. I don't think you were wrong to do what you did… and I certainly don't think you failed anyone."

Auriana was unexpectedly warmed by the calm compassion in the Prince's eyes. She wasn't sure if he were subtly using the Light to hearten her, or whether it was the simple reassurance of unburdening her doubts to another human being, but the weight in her chest felt suddenly lighter. Not that she should really be having this conversation with the young prince, of course, but at the moment she felt as if she didn't really have anyone else.

"My father will be pleased that you're awake," Anduin continued kindly. "I shall send for him immediately."

"No!" Auriana protested, more forcefully than she had intended.

Anduin's eyebrows raised in surprise, and he unconsciously took a step back.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I just… I doubt he'll want to see me."

"Why would you think that?" Anduin said slowly, looking very confused.

Auriana looked at him seriously. This wasn't a discussion she particularly wanted to have, but there was something about the prince's gentle composure that encouraged her to speak.

"The last time we spoke, we got into a fairly serious argument about my intentions for Grommashar. We parted on… less than friendly terms," she explained. "His Majesty was concerned I was rushing into an ill-conceived assault on Grommashar just to slake my lust for revenge against Hellscream."

She looked down at her hands and sighed.

"He was probably right," she muttered.

"I'll tell you something about my father," Anduin said thoughtfully. "The louder he shouts, the more he cares. I daresay you can't claim to really  _know_  him until you've got into at least one screaming match with him."

The prince's eyes sparkled. Auriana appreciated his attempt to inject some humour into the conversation, but she didn't have it in her to laugh.

"I very much doubt," he added kindly, "That anything irreversibly damaging was said."

"Perhaps," she said skeptically, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Anduin gave her a sincere, meaningful look, and once again she found herself unnerved by the power of his gaze.

"Commander… Auriana... I don't pretend to know what there is between you and my father… and I don't intend to ask," he added quickly, seeing her start to protest. "I will, however, say this... he has spent the last three days prowling around the keep like a caged animal, waiting for you to wake up. Do you  _really_ think that he's been beside himself for days just because he was looking forward to yelling at you?"

Auriana turned away from the prince, not willing to meet his too-knowing eyes. She'd decided that there was no point in denying that she cared for the King a great deal, but she'd never dared to imagine that he might feel the same. It certainly wasn't something she intended to admit to his son, either, but his words afforded her a brief glimmer of hope.

"Nevertheless," Anduin continued. "I shall respect your request. You needn't speak to him if you don't wish it."

"Thank you," she said quietly, genuinely grateful for his understanding.

She shook her addled head, as something else that Anduin had said suddenly registered.

"I've been asleep for  _three days_?" she wondered.

"Yes. Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

"I got clipped by Gorehowl," she said ruefully, unconsciously touching a hand to her side.

"Ah. That explains the unusual shape of the wound," Anduin mused, his gaze stern. "I will have to insist that you go back to bed. You lost a lot of blood. I intend to keep you here for another week, at least."

"I'm fine," she said determinedly, but the words had barely left her mouth before she felt her head swim and her knees buckle.

Anduin lunged forward to catch her, and she tumbled gracelessly into him. He caught her neatly, and she was surprised at how cool and soothing his hands felt. It was strange, she thought vaguely, as his father's hands were always  _warm_. She pretended not to notice the slight colour rising in the prince's cheeks as his fingers brushed the bare skin of her waist. Anduin was wise beyond his years, but he was still a young man, and she doubted he'd ever had much cause to hold a woman in his arms.

"What did I tell you?" he said disapprovingly, half carrying and half dragging her over to the bed.

Despite her earlier protests, she collapsed willingly into the soft mattress. His brief bout of embarrassment gone, Anduin was all business as he carefully rested her head on the pillow and pulled the sheets up over her body. The prince looked like a much older man when he was working, and he radiated an aura of quiet calm. Auriana found herself thoroughly impressed, even though the room was spinning so badly that she could barely see...

" _Now_  will you listen to me? Go to sleep," he ordered firmly, though his voice was not unkind.

Auriana tried to resist the temptation to close her eyes, yet they grew increasingly heavy with every blink. Anduin stared down at her serenely, and there was something about his gaze that made her suspicious.

"Stop it," she mumbled uselessly, realising far too late that the prince was using his Light-given abilities to lull her into sleep.

Her chest felt very warm and her bones were suddenly heavy, and she could feel her consciousness drifting. Anduin grinned, but the gentle pressure against her mind continued.

"You know, for a small woman, you're harder to put down than a bull clefthoof," he observed lightly.

"I specialise… in being… difficult," she slurred, finally losing the battle against her own weariness.

The last thing she remembered was Anduin's cool hand gently squeezing her own, before she succumbed to the Light-induced sleep and everything went black.


	27. Varian

Varian paced around his study restlessly. It had been five days since the Siege of Grommashar, and he hadn't yet seen Auriana since she'd collapsed in his arms. According to Anduin, she had woken up the day before, but had declined to speak with Varian. He'd had pressed his son rather urgently on the matter, but Anduin had remained tight lipped, calmly yet firmly repeating the commander's request.

Varian's desire to respect Auriana's wishes warred with his desire to see her. He had been somewhat wounded by her refusal to see him, but he supposed she must have had her reasons. His willpower had slowly been crumbling, however, the longer he tried to stay away. Varian didn't intend to discuss their argument, or anything that she might find uncomfortable or stressful, but he did want to speak to her. Light, he probably didn't even have to  _talk_ to her, if she didn't want to, he just had to see her alive. Feeling her pulse slowly fade beneath his fingers as Anduin worked desperately to save her life had severely tested his resolve, and had served to highlight how deeply he cared for the little mage.

"I can't do this," he said aloud, to no one in particular.

Utterly unable to wait any longer, Varian swept downstairs to the guest wing, singlemindedly seeking his commander. He ignored the curious stares of the guards assigned to her room, and burst open the door without so much as a knock.

Auriana was standing by the window, looking pensively over Stormwind Lake. She wore a pale blue cotton dress, and her hair fell in loose waves down her back. She turned to face him as he entered, her blue eyes widening in surprise. She still looked tired and extremely pale, and there was a thin red line above her brow marking the site of her head injury. Nevertheless, her gaze was strong and bright as she stared at him curiously, her head cocked slightly to one side. The golden sunset filtering through the window had turned her hair a rich shade of mahogany, and to his eyes, she looked simply radiant.

Varian's heart thundered in his chest as he pushed the door closed behind him, and he found his mouth had gone dry. He had come here with so much to tell her, and instead he had been utterly silenced by the sheer relief of seeing her alive. He simultaneously wanted to apologise, to chastise her for being so reckless, to congratulate her on her victory, and to tell her how he felt, but he found had no words for any of it. He opened his mouth uselessly, and swiftly shut it again. Auriana wrung her hands nervously in front of her, as if she too had something to say, but she appeared similarly dumbstruck. For a long moment, they both stood in silence, their eyes locked as a hundred unspoken things passed between them. Auriana was the first to look away, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face as she did so. The simple gesture struck Varian as both vulnerable and incredibly beautiful, and something inside him finally snapped.

He crossed the room in four powerful strides and crushed her to him, his hands sliding into the soft waves of her hair as he kissed her with a desperate hunger. Somewhat to his surprise, she reciprocated fiercely, her small hands clinging to his chest. She tasted  _wonderful_ , like sweet wine and summer rain, and he vaguely wondered why he'd waited so long to do this. She arched against him, and Varian groaned as he felt his body respond. He dropped his hand to her waist to pull her closer, and was immediately rewarded as she moaned deliciously against his mouth. The wolf within him howled, and he was filled with an all-consuming urge to devour her utterly.

Breaking away from the kiss, Varian slid his fingers along the line of her jaw, and gently lifted her chin to expose the delicate skin at the base of her neck. She turned her throat to him willingly, and gasped softly as his lips found her pale flesh once more.

"Light, Auri," he growled roughly, barely able to keep his desire in check.

"Varian..." she sighed, and he had scarcely known his name to sound so sweet.

His free hand snaked up her back and found the laces of the dress that kept the rest of her soft skin from his touch. He ripped at them savagely, unwilling to wait even a second longer to claim her as his own. He'd just freed the last lace when she placed a small hand against his chest and gently pushed him away.

"Wait," she said softly.

Varian frowned, confused, but he respected her request and pulled back. She was breathing heavily, and he could see hot desire in the darkness of her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. Light, he could even  _smell_  it on her, and it sent fierce shivers of lust down his spine. And yet… he could see something else, too, an uncertainty that belied the passion with which she'd embraced him.

"I'm sorry," he panted, "I'm sorry. I didn't think of your wounds. Did I hurt you?"

He looked down at her with great concern, gently grasping her shoulders. She suddenly dropped her head, and refused to look up at him.

"No," she said quickly. "You didn't hurt me. But… we… Varian, we can't do this."

His heart froze. He stepped back.

"What?" he asked, thoroughly bewildered. "I thought… I thought… is this because we fought?"

She looked up at him then, and her face was pure anguish.

"No," she said fiercely. "It's not that. I want you, you have to believe me… ever since that night in the garden, actually… if I'm being honest with myself... but it isn't that simple. There are other considerations."

"Such as?" he demanded hotly.

"Varian, you aren't just a man, you're the  _King of Stormwind_. That means something. I've already been threatened just for  _talking_ with you. What do you think will happen if I let you bed me?"

Varian stared down at her, dumbfounded. All this time, he'd thought she'd been the one person who'd seen him as a man, and yet it seemed that in the end she was just like everyone else who couldn't see past his crown. For a brief moment, he seethed, until his cooler head was forced to admit that she had a point.

"We could keep it a secret," he tried, desperately trying to change her mind.

"I… I don't know if I could do that," she said tentatively, but he could see her resolve wavering. "Could you? Could you lie to everyone… could you lie to your son?"

She ran her hands through her hair and closed her eyes.

"And what if the affair were discovered?" she continued painfully. "You may be the King, and immune to the consequences, but I'm just a lowly commander. It would seriously undermine my authority if people suspected the only reason I'd been given Lunarfall was because I was your… your… concubine."

"Khadgar appointed you," Varian protested. "I signed off on the order, but I didn't make the direct decision."

"Technically, that's true, but I doubt many people would make the distinction," she pointed out. "More than that, you know what I do for a living. There's a very real possibility that every time I step outside my garrison that I won't be coming back. Could you be content, stuck in your keep, knowing that I was in danger?"

"You already go on dangerous missions now. I can't say that I like it, but I could live with it."

"You can live with it right now, but right now, we're just friends. I've seen the way you look at me sometimes, Varian, when I return home after a skirmish. You  _hate_ it," she said.

Varian opened his mouth to offer a futile protest, but she silenced him with a swift, serious look.

"Don't lie," she said warningly. "Can you honestly tell me that doing…  _this_ , that... stepping over that threshold wouldn't change things between us?"

Varian knew she was right. Having an intimate relationship with her would only serve to strengthen his burgeoning feelings, and he knew how protective he was by nature. As it stood, he could barely keep himself contained when she walked into his rooms covered in blood and bruises. He had no idea how he'd cope if he crossed that line, if he allowed himself to really fallfor her. Hell, he knew everything she'd said was right… and he hated it. Not for the first time, he found himself desperately wishing that he were still Lo'Gosh, and not High King Varian.

"Tell me one thing…" he said raggedly, no longer trying to argue the point with her. "Is this… is this just me?"

He paced furiously about the room, running a hand through his hair as he tried to come to terms with what was happening.

"You crept up on me, you know," he said brokenly. "I hadn't thought… I hadn't ever thought that I'd… care, again, that I'd want someone again, and then… there you were. So angry and so sad, and you hated me so  _fiercely_ , and yet... I found you strangely compelling. And then, suddenly we were friends, and I… please... tell me… do I mean anything to you at all?"

He stopped pacing and looked up, both needing and dreading her answer.

"Varian..." she choked wretchedly, and the look she gave him was like a knife to the heart.

Auriana opened her mouth to explain, but words utterly failed her once again. With no other recourse, she approached him slowly, and gently took his face between her hands. Unable to resist, Varian let her pull him in for an aching kiss. It was the sweetest and saddest kiss he had ever experienced, and he knew it would be permanently burned into his memory. He wasn't sure how she was able to impress so much emotion into a single kiss, but he felt everything, and it was more than he could have ever hoped for or expected. He felt her passion and desire, her pain and regret, and worst of all, he felt precisely the depth of her yearning for him. Unable to bear it for a second longer, he pulled away. As they broke apart, he could feel the hot trail that her tears had left upon his cheeks.

"I have to go," he said roughly, and all but fled for the door.

He was halfway gone when she called out quietly from behind him.

"Varian? Are we… are we still friends?"

Varian stopped, his back towards her, and kept the door slightly open. His younger self, his angrier self, might have rejected her in turn, in order to slake his wounded pride, but he was no longer that man.

"Of course," he said softly, and he closed the door behind him.


End file.
